


Of Queens and War

by FlyingDutchy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, Princess Clarke, Queen Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14418588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingDutchy/pseuds/FlyingDutchy
Summary: Lexa is a Queen and Clarke is a princess of a neighbouring kingdom. They met at a party in Arcadia years ago, but now things have spiralled out of control for the two of them and they end up on opposite sides of the battlefield.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short one-shot of Lexa and Clarke between two different kingdoms. Well-- look at this beast now. There might be a moment in chapter 2 that's potentially triggering--it will be discussed but not shown in detail, I thought I'd warn you but I don't want to spoil too much of the story.

****

**_Now_ **

****

On the other side of the field, down the hill and across the small river, which hardly could be called one for it didn’t reach past her knees at its deepest point, a sea glimmered in the sunlight. Instead of the waves reflecting the light of the sun, this sea was one of people clad in metal armor. The polished helmets, shields and breastplates of the nobility contrasted with the common foot soldier who only had a polished spear or halberd. The nervous whinnies of magnificent war horses carried in the wind.

A flock of birds flew past and landed in the empty center of the field, oblivious to the tense standoff between the two armies.

Her steed shifted below her as he put his weight on a different leg. She patted him on the neck and dexterously threw her left leg over the horse, her armor barely slowing her down, until only her right for was still stuck in the stirrup. Her horse slightly bent through his knees to make the last drop just a bit less high.  Not that she needed the help, but she appreciated Samos' gesture. She liked to believe it was considerate of the creature, not just because he wanted one of the treats she’d hidden in a pouch. When he stuck his shout into the pouch the moment she’d opened it, she knew the answer. 

She began to remove the layers of protection that were designed and built to keep her safe in the upcoming battle. Staring with her helmet, which she gave to her squire. When the confining enclosure was gone she shook her head and the long brown braids escaped their prison. Her gauntlet and grieves were next. Some knights had their squires help them removing their battle gear, but she liked the methodological nature of removing every leather strap herself. When she got to her breastplate, she heard heavy footsteps coming close, she wondered how he made them sound that way even in the dirt and grass that covered the hill.

“You're still trying to convince me this is a bad idea?” It was not really a question. She almost could hear his nod, her mind imagined his scowl and bald head bobbing as he disagreed with her. Her imagination even included the sunlight reflecting of his cleanly shaved head, a quick glance to her side confirmed it.

The robed man, who could be mistaken for priest if you didn’t know better, was dead serious and a defiant anger was blazing behind his eyes. “Your foolishness has to stop.”

She raised an eyebrow and shot her advisor a pointed look. He averted his gaze, submitting to her. She returned her sight to the fields down the hill. A small tent was being constructed in the center, equally distant from both armies.  A meeting on neutral grounds between the leaders could take place there before the battle.

“You shouldn’t have caused this war. King Jacob of Arcadia was always an ally.”

Lexa bristled. “I did not declare war.”

She hadn’t even planned to. Circumstances got away from her and she found herself summoning her banners across her realm for the fifth time since reconquering her throne. Though the first time in a defensive war.

“This meeting exposes you unduly to danger. The battle is unavoidable.”

“I don’t intend to avoid it.” She had a plan, one that even her oldest advisor was not privy to. Titus raised her after he helped her escape the clutches of the pretender that killed her parents and took the throne. She was eight at that time, her brother had just been born. Images from that night still haunted her during moments of weakness.

A steady trot of a warhorse, its metal armor rattled as it moves, the countless mail rings constructed an armor that protected the animal from most harm, and such an armor was only reserved for the wealthiest of nobles. She didn’t have the look up to know Anya was mounted on the animal.

“The pavilion is built, my _queen_.” The last word was said in mockery aimed at her advisor who always insisted on proper respect. “Your request for parley seems to have been accepted.”

She nodded and shrugged out of the last remnants of her armor. With a heavy clang, the breastplate fell to the ground as her squire had been too late to catch it. She spared him a reassuring smile, the nine year old boy ducked, his unruly black hair bobbing at the quick movement, and hastily carried it to her personal cart. Another squire had brought her coat, she donned the green with brown jacket over her white blouse and fastened the buttons. A light sabre with a golden pommel hung to her side as a ceremonial weapon.

She turned around to face her companions, who had grown by one more horsed nobleman. “How do I look?”

Gustus, a man three times the size of her with a beard that was more voluminous than her hair, shrugged. “Good.” He was a man of few words, a characteristic she wished Titus would take up upon.

Titus' mouth was in a hard line. He did not approve of showing her blouse, what amounted to basically her underclothes, so openly. Many of her noblemen dressed similarly so she saw no reason to change just because she was a woman, and these clothes were comfortable and less restrictive than a dress.

Anya simply scoffed. “Like a lamb going to the slaughter.”

She barked a dry laugh at the woman on the white horse. Once again she turned to the field that would soon be drowned on screams and blood. Three riders broke free from the ranks on the opposing side. Too far away for her to make out details, but she knew who was in the center. She hoisted herself back on her horse.

“Anya, Gustus, escort me to the pavilion.”

She moved in rhythm with her horse, flanked by the two persons in the kingdom she trusted the most—even they didn’t know the full extent of her plans. Using the slope of the hill to their advantage, they made ground faster than the party of three on the other side of the grassland. The wind whipped in her hair, and for a moment, she forgot about the impending battle. She closed her eyes and imagined that the battle had already passed and the outcome was what she desired, she saw herself sitting on her throne and looking to her right, piercing blue would stare back at her and –

“I can practically hear your thoughts.” She heard her general scoff.

She shook her head, dispersing the thoughts from the back of her mind. She didn’t respond to Anya.

“All this bloodshed for a woman.” Anya scoffed.

Lexa turned to her general. “It’s like the legends of old, right?”

The pavilion now blocked their line of sight, the blue and white striped tent cloth waved in wind. She dismounted her horse and stepped inside. She stuck her head out and nodded to her generals. “Stay nearby, if anything happens, get us out.”

She stepped back inside the empty tent, crossed her arms and watched the entrance on the other side like a hawk, waiting for the opposing leader to step through.

 

**_Four years ago_ **

The loud rumble of the wooden wheels grinding against the cobble stones reverbed throughout her carriage. Even louder were the sounds of the party she would be attending. Not having grown up surrounded by the pompous parties of the nobility, she was not used to the babble that both noblewomen and men used to inflate their own egos.

She looked herself over in the mirror—conscious of her first public appearance in the court of another kingdom—and was pleased she looked both like a king and a warrior. A rich green mangle was donned on her shoulders, the cloak, green so dark it seemed black, almost reached the ground. Her jacket was embroidered with yellow threads in the shape of a cog—her House’s symbol—on her heart and a tree—her Duchy’s symbol—on the other side. Her hair was not braided, instead it was styled in soft curls that gave it just a bit more volume, not that she needed it.

She opened the curtain of her carriage and stepped down. Her sabre rattled against the wooden portal, in a reflex she grabbed the golden pommel and adjusted her father’s blade at her side. She chastised herself for uncharacteristically stumbling. Luckily, the Steward had not announced her yet and no eyes were on her.

As if on cue, the man noticed her and his eyes widened as he saw her unorthodox clothes, he eyed her sabre as well, which golden pommel gleamed in the light of the many torches. “Announcing the arrival of Queen Alexandria the First of her name, Queen of Kongeda, Duchess of Trikru and Delfikru, Baroness of Tondisi and Polis.”

The sounds of the party died as all turned to look at her. She felt the eyes of a few hundred nobles focus on her and squared her shoulders and rested one hand casually on the pommel of her weapon. She heard murmurs strike up after the initial shock had dissipated, she knew word of her deeds had traveled much farther than she had—and she had traveled far during her time spent hiding and training. Many of these nobles now had gaps in their family trees thanks to her.

The crowd parted for the host and his wife, King Jacob III and Queen consort Abbigail Griffin. A striking couple, young and in the prime of their lives. Jacob’s kind eyes greeted her as he approached. She bowed respectfully, as she was the visiting monarch, to the king and queen. The monarchs were dressed in blue and gold, their mantles also darker than the blue of their tunics. Embroidered on their chests was a creature with the body and tail of a lion but with the beak, legs and wings of an eagle—a griffin.

“Queen Lexa, welcome to Arcadia.” The name was both the name of the kingdom and its capital. Jacob motioned for her to rise. Abbigail stayed back, not sharing her husband’s hospitality.

“Thank you, Jake, for extending the invitation despite recent events.” She saw a grimace flash on his face, he did not personally agree with all her actions. He was a gentler monarch than she, but he still supported her rightful claim just as much as before, but she knew that his wife had lost a distant cousin in her struggle to retake the throne. “Abbigail, I must apologize for bringing this up, but I am truly sorry for the loss of your kinsman.”

And she was, despite being the one ordering their capture and subsequent execution, for she mourned the loss of life despite the necessity. Abbigail nodded and reached out with one arm, she clasped hers around the wrist and the other queen did the same. A respectful gesture, a step forward. “Call me Abby, only my mother and the priests still call me Abbigail.”

She nodded, her tense shoulder relaxing a bit more. Her gaze now swept across the room, ready to take in the individuals attending the party. She recognized most from the descriptions given to her by her advisors and attendants. All of the nobility of Arcadia and a few high nobles of surrounding kingdoms and independent duchies were in attendance.

Her eyes were magnetically pulled towards a pair of piercing blue eyes. Their gazes interlocked, and for a moment she forgot about the party and only heard hear own heartbeat in her chest. Until she heard the steward cry out the arrival of the next guest. King Jacob had missed the interaction, but based on Abby’s, once again, narrowed eyes, she hadn’t. Mothers were always more alert about the safety of their offspring.

“I beg your pardon.” The king nodded in the direction of the newly arrived guests. “I must welcome the Duke and Duchess of Reyes. Enjoy the party.” She bowed her farewell, and stepped into the crowds. Conversations died down when she closed in, but she was used to this. She heard noblemen talk stratagem for fictional wars—which, based on her experience, they would fictionally lose as well—and women discuss the newest fashions. She didn’t fit in with both groups—being a women that took control of a kingdom for herself in a world dominated by men. This was especially true in Arcadia, where women only inherited if there were no men to do so.

After aimlessly wandering, with eyes following her every move, she finally found a kindred soul sitting alone at a table. She plopped down next to him, startling him from his internal reverie. His dark skin stood out against his light clothes, probably on purpose, and she wondered where came from. Most people did not travel far, maybe his was a merchant’s family. She held out her hand. “Lexa.”

His eyes betrayed that he already knew this. “Wells Jaha.”

He took her hand. “You seem to have experience being the odd one out at parties such as these, so you must have a solution to this conundrum.” Her assumption was correct, as he stemmed his protests in its accuracy and, guiltily, pulled out a checkered board with many squared in four different colors. She smiled.

It was not necessary to ask whether she played: all of nobility played _gon wa_ , the game of war.

Their game started, she probed his battle lines, he probed hers, and she lost focus on the rest of the party. It seemed she was absorbed in the game, but she used her connection with her opponent to extract information about guests and nobility in Arcadia. Before long, their bout had attracted attention. It quickly became apparent why, Wells was the local champion in King Jacob’s court, and she was holding her own against him.

When one of her units was surrounded and removed from the board, cheers rang up from Wells’ supporters. She moved a cavalry unit to engage, when another hand clasped around hers. “This would spring a trap.”

She glanced up, straight into those blue eyes of earlier. She smirked. “Why do you think so?”

Protests started from the spectators, unhappy with the help she was receiving from the king’s daughter. The princess bend over and whispered in her ear. “You know exactly what trap it would spring. You’ve seen it, prodded it, and now you want to activate it to seem like you’re not losing on purpose.”

Lexa swallowed. The breath that tickled her ear, and the slight perfume mixed with a scent she couldn’t place-but decidedly enjoyed-threw her off for a second. Then she blinked and turned back to the game. “What would you have me do, then?” She relayed three possible moves.

The princess laughed. “Neither.” And the blonde quickly moved three of her units and subsequently trapped Wells’ behind her battle lines. The young man across the table glared at the princess, but in a way she recognized as playful. These two had played this game against each other before.

She finished the game on her own, her earlier attempts to lose gracefully made sure she couldn’t really come back, but she did put on her best show and managed to make Wells’ victory a pyrrhic one.

The crowd dispersed and after congratulating her opponent, she was left alone—as one can be in a surrounded by a crowd of semi-drunk nobles—with the princess, who stuck out her hand in greeting. Lexa couldn’t help but bring it to her lips and press a kiss to the top, she carefully watched the reaction of the blonde as she did so, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

“A pleasure to meet you, _Klark._ ” She let her accent shine through as she spoke the princess’ name. “Though you spoiled my plans to be dismissed as a bad leader.”

Clarke laughed unapologetically, Lexa decided she liked the somewhat husky sound of it. “The name Alexandria is already tied to great accomplishments on the battlefield, if the rumors are to be believed, a game of _gon wa_ is not going to change that.”

“Lexa.” She corrected right away. “And _au contraire_ , my victories are known, but not attributed to me.”

“Oh.” Clarke nodded, and she saw the blonde understood what she had meant. “Then I did my duty to secure my father’s realm by uncovering the enemy’s deception.” Blue eyes twinkled playfully at her.

Lexa took a step closer. “Enemy’s deception? You know my reputation and what happens to my enemies.” She now was firmly in the princess’ personal space, with one hand she brushed the beautiful blonde locks aside and put her mouth close to Clarke’s ear. “I conquer them.”

Clarke twisted her head, such that Lexa’s lips barely brushed her ear, Lexa froze as she tasted skin. It was Clarke that smirked. “I suppose I will meet you on the battlefield, Your Highness.” With hips swaying she left Lexa stunned, defeated twice in one evening, staring at the princess as she walked away.

 

**_Three years ago_ **

****

She could hear the cheers long before she reached the city gates. Polis was a sight to behold. The large single tower, unassailable for any attacker, stood central in the circular city, famous for its three concentric walls. From the small hills next to the city, she could barely look over the edge of the walls. Below her, the column of ten thousand soldiers stretched down the hill into the gates of the city.

She sat weary in her saddle. Samos was just as tired as she was. “Just a little bit further, buddy.” She patted his strong neck, the muscles trembled under her fingers.

Indra rode up next to her. “Why don’t you lead your men into the city, my queen?”

“This is as much their victory as mine. Let them celebrate for tonight, tomorrow I will throw my feast.”

She smiled at the droves of people running out of the city to greet the victorious army. Tales of their grand battles had reached her capital before they did. Words still traveled faster than men, she supposed the winds carried them.

A painful throb in her side reminded her of another reason she wouldn’t be celebrating tonight. The last battle, after which the enemy surrendered, had been dangerous. Deep inside enemy territory she threatened a vital city, forcing the enemy to fight or lose all their supplies. It had been a decisive victory, which could’ve become a decisive defeat if she hadn’t gotten back up on her horse after a crossbow bolt had lodged itself in her side, finding a miniscule gap between her plate armor. Seeing her go down _and_ get back up boosted the morale of her army and had the opposite effect on their enemy. The battle was a one-sided affair, despite the equal numbers, afterwards.

“You should find a medic.” Indra said, she grunted affirmatively in response. Turning away from her general, she watched the tired warriors regain their strength as they approach the city, as if the mere sight of home was a magical potion.

It might also have been the smell of the feast prepared by the wives and husbands-she had a few women in her army if they proved themselves capable-who had been left behind. She removed her helmet, her banner, and any insignia heralding her title, and stuffed them inherently saddlebags. She tried to even the load, Samos could get annoyed at uneven balance and the horse could stubbornly react to it. Once she was incognito, she joined the queue of warriors at the very end and got off her horse, electing to follow them on an equal level.

By chance she recognized one of the soldiers. He of course also recognized her this close up, it was the crowds she was hiding from. “Ryder, was it?”

“Your Majesty!” despite his exhaustion, the man tried to bow, and his friends also scrambled to do so.

“No need. Tonight, we’re all equals.” The man relaxed a bit more. “Why are you all the way in the back? Didn’t you say you have a woman waiting for you?”

“ _Sha,_ but they needed a rear guard and I was uninjured and figured someone had to do it.”

“And you’re sure it’s not because you lost your bonding bracelet in a bet?” she shot back. His face became as white as snow, and his companions laughed out loud.

The ice broken, they traded stories of their perspectives of the war. She showed them her wound, they showed their scars-none serious because the wounded had been the first to be carried into the city. Soon the celebrations were upon them. Children running alongside the column reached them first-Ryder’s kid was amongst them and the father embraced his son proudly. He pointed at her, and she smiled at the kid.

“Your dad is a brave warrior, one of my best! He even had to sacrifice his bracelet to save my life. He threw it at an enemy soldier, who was distracted by the shiny object!” She threw a wink at the soldier who saluted her.

Then, the city gates loomed ahead and the real party begun for the last few of her army to return home. She removed the sash she wore – not the red one she usually wore – and wrapped it around her head and slipped into the crowd.

This reception was similar to the one she’d received in some of the conquered cities, liberating them from the steppe nomads that loomed to the east, but not all had been welcoming her army. She liberated a few cities, but also extended her reach by conquering new lands. The steppe hordes wouldn’t be rising up soon, her eastern border was now secured by a large river and the mountainside that lay beyond it.

From the crowd she watched as the last home comers were greeted by their loved ones. Though it was not all happy. Many were still standing, watching, waiting, for those men and women this would not be a day of celebration. She tried to commit them to memory, their silent tears a stark contrast to the jubilant party in the streets.

A flash of blonde caught her eye—so briefly that she thought she imagined it. She stopped her progression to the Polis tower to search for it. She quickly found it again. She found her, balancing on the heels of her feet to look over the people in front of her, standing near the main entrance to her city. The princess, who she hadn’t seen in a year of heavy campaigning in the east, looked dejectedly at the lack of people coming through the gate. For who had she been watching? A brief moment she’d hoped that it was her. The alternative that the beautiful princess had been waiting for someone that would not return would be something she wished the blonde didn’t need to experience.

A mischievous thought rose in her head. She was quite sure the blonde was looking for her, so she decided to gamble. She snuck to the other side of the street and weaved through the crowd until she stood right behind the blonde. She stepped close to the blonde and spoke softly, directly into her ear. “Who are you looking for?”

The blonde whipped around and struck. If Lexa hadn’t been campaigning for a year, always ready for battle, she would’ve been hit square in the stomach, instead she veered out of the way and directed the punch to the empty air besides her. Meanwhile she spun on her axis and catapulted the blonde over her shoulder, carefully but expertly laying her down on the ground.

Air rushed out of the blonde’s lungs and she winced at the slight impact. But besides dirty clothes, Lexa knew she’d done no damage. When those blue eyes opened again and found hers, they stared at each other.

“You _threw_ me.”

“You tried to punch me.”

“You scared me—I thought you were a drunk or a thief.” Well, she’d have to give that to Clarke, perhaps it had not been a good idea to startle the princess.

She helped Clarke back on her feet, pulling just a little too hard until the blonde bumped into her. Their faces close were close and Lexa was just perhaps a little bit drunk on the victory, and combined with seeing Clarke again, she felt emboldened. The blonde had come out here to watch for her return, possibly even sneaking away from her own kingdom.

“Were you watching for me?” She dared to ask.

Clarke, also bold tonight, nodded. “I had to see whether you had succeeded playing conquest and were ready for the real deal.”

In a flash she was reminded at Clarke’s last words just a year ago, where she’d teased her and left her standing in the middle of the party gaping as she swayed her hips and beat her at her own game. “Perhaps.”

One hand found its way to Clarke’s hip, the other was at the base of her neck, teasingly tracing the hairs that sprung there. She eyed Clarke’s lips, and saw the blonde doing the same with hers and she licked her lips. Clarke placed her hand on Lexa’s side and she tightened her hold. Lexa brought the princess’ head towards hers and—

Pain flared up in her side. “Shit, Lexa!” The blonde raised her hand, drenched with blood so dark it was nearly black—a trait inherited by her family and required to become the ruler of Kongeda—and her eyes widened in fear.

The blonde was quickly switching from romance to focused, which aroused Lexa only more. She pushed Clarke’s hands down, intent on claiming her lips, but she didn’t expect her to put up a fight. “I have to look at this, I didn’t believe the rumors that you got hit with a crossbow bolt and continued to fight.”

“Later.” She said, still focused getting what she wanted most right now. Clarke now swatted her away with ease, and she swayed on her feet. “I must’ve over exerted myself by throwing you to the ground.”

“Looks like you will do no more conquering today.” Clarke whispered as she caught her. “Too bad.”

 

 

When she came to, she saw a familiar ceiling stare up at her. A fresco, painted for her father’s victory at the mountain pass, when he had been barely twenty years of age, loomed above her. It hadn’t even been commissioned, local artists gifted their time to make this specific piece. It was one of the few images of her father that had survived the brief time the Azgeda dynasty had taken the throne away from her family.

She shifted in her sheets, noting her state of undress and the careful bandages on her side. The large wooden bed made for a king five times her size, provided ample space for her to twist and turn. Her eyes found a window, the sun was gleaming on the horizon which meant it was morning. A figure was seated in a chair underneath the view to the east. Lexa was disappointed it wasn’t Clarke.

“Don’t hide your excitement.” Anya said. “Care to explain to me why you were brought to the tower last night, covered in blood, by a beggar woman claiming to be the princess of Arcadia.”

So it hadn’t been a feverish hallucination. “She _is_ the princess of Arcadia.”

Anya’s eyes grew comically in size. “Shit.”

“Please tell me you didn’t lock her up in the dungeons.”

“Not in the dungeons…” Lexa was up, groaning at the way her wound throbbed in her side, ready to become angry at her friend. “What were we to do? She got here, covered in _your_ blood, claiming to be a princess you had thrown to the ground, because she punched you after you startled her, which caused you to open up your battle wound.”

She had to admit, put like that it did sound quite unbelievable. “That’s exactly how it happened.”

“Even the stories of your victories sound more believable, and I was there to witness them.” She hastily left the room. Lexa stood up from the bed and walked to her dresser to put on a robe. After which she trailed the wood of the exquisite piece of furniture. This one told legends about the past, all of them embellished, where walking trees fought griffins. She couldn’t help but think it an omen, she was of Trikru, and Clarke was of House Griffin. She shook the thoughts from her mind.

Hurried footsteps neared her door. She expected a knock, but the door burst open and a blonde, washed up after spending the night locked up in the royal guest suite, rushed into the room. She barely had time to close the robe and protect her modesty. A healthy blush rose to Clarke’s cheeks. Her state of undress was promptly ignored when the blonde saw the dark red seeping through the bandages. “They haven’t changed them, like I instructed.”

Before she could protest, Clarke was at her side, pushing her robe open and removing said bandages from her side. Her breasts were still bound the way she had under her armor, but when Clarke’s hands touched her skin, she felt goosebumps all over her body. She was instantaneously aroused.

Then Anya burst into the room.

“Lexa, where is—oh.” Clarke had knelt in front of her, and she was semi-undressed, and Anya knew about her preference for the female sex. “ _Oh._ That explains a _lot._ ”

“Wait-we’re not-I’m just,” Clarke started, startled at the intrusion. She narrowed her eyes at the general in the doorway. “You know, changing the bandages I put on last night.”

“So you first let her dress my wound _before_ locking her up in the dungeon.” She laughed. Winced at the strain in her side, and doubled over. Anya looked at her as she was broken. She’d spend nights drinking and laughing with her men, but it always felt forced, knowing they were heading into battle or uncertain territory the next day. This was the first time since a year she’d been able laugh as freely as this. When she was done, she found her side fully drenched in blood, Clarke glaring angrily at her, and Anya wondering who the hell she was.

Then she grabbed Clarke by the front of her tunic, pulled her up, and kissed her.

 

**_Two years ago_ **

 

A winter’s breeze swept through her hair. The cold bothered her only a little as she sprinted through the streets of Arcadia. Unqueenly, is what it was, but it mattered not to her. She was here on an official visit, but only due to have an audience with the King tomorrow afternoon—and she couldn’t wait that long. Not now she was so close.

Snow covered the streets, but she didn’t slip on the icy cobblestones. While winter had just started here, near the warm water ports of that remained unfrozen all year long, her campaign in the lands of Azgeda, one of her disloyal duchies, had hardened her to these cold climates. Her feet were now as steady on ice as on rocks. She ran through the maze of narrow streets that were the back roads of a city almost as populous as Polis. Her disguise was simple, a shawl covered her face from the light snowfall, and a long tunic kept her warm. At a cursory glance she wouldn’t look much different from any other citizen here, only when one looked closely you could tell that she wasn’t from here.

People jumped out of her way, looking strange at whoever was in such a hurry to run in this weather. She paused when the row of houses gave way for a section of walls where houses hadn’t been built against. It was a security hazard to build directly against the walls, something that wouldn’t do in Polis, but Arcadia had Polis as an ally for so long that it hadn’t seen war in ages. It saved the people materials for a home when one wall was already built reliably.

There was only a small gap in the row of houses, if she stretched her arms she could touch both sides, which made it perfect. She dusted the snow of her boots and glanced back at the street. Very few people were outside in this weather.

Seeing nobody else, she braced herself and jumped at the left wall. Grappling the uneven stones, she found grip for barely a moment and pushed off again towards the other wall now behind her. Her fingers slipped for barely a second, she worried that maybe she shouldn’t do this as a queen, but then they found another stone sticking out with her feet and jumped off again. After four jumps, she was on top of the outer wall of Arcadia’s palace, the Ark. She looked down over the snowy gardens, and ducked behind a machicolation when she heard to voices over the otherwise empty courtyard.

“—father would rather see me off married with some noble than have me do _anything,_ Bell.” There was a sense of desperation in that voice, and what she said reminded her of the vastly different customs between the two kingdoms.

“If you marry someone, you’ll never have to care for anything, you won’t have to work or do anything at all. You’ll be safe and taken care off by your husband.”

“But I won’t be happy.” Octavia shout whispered back. “Father wants me to marry into the _Murhpy’s_.”

“They’d be excellent allies.”

“For you!” She heard something smash against the wall below her, a soft puff as something fell to the ground. A snowball, perhaps. “When father dies, you’ll inherit everything—“

“Which is why you need a husband!”

“—and you’ll get the alliance with the Duke of Betavia as well, when Murphy’s father dies. And what do I get? A man I can’t love, and nothing to do but spread my legs and make dinner. Same as mom did, she never loved dad, and she hated her life.”

“Don’t.” Bellamy said warningly. Lexa recalled the scandal, the duchess of Alfa, Lady Blake, had been found dead one day last spring. Poisoned. The culprit hadn’t been caught—but perhaps there was more to this than it seemed.

“Even Clarke, should the King and Queen get another son, will not inherit the throne no matter how capable she is.” Lexa dared to cast a glance over the edge of the wall. She saw the two siblings sitting on the a stone bench in the middle of a field of grass covered in snow such that only the tips of the blades stuck through the white cover. Bellamy had thrown an arm around his sister.

“Clarke will have a difficult time, her legitimacy will be questioned if she ascends to the throne.” He said. “It might be easier if she was married beforehand, a husband to sway the critical nobles.” Lexa gritted her teeth and clenched her hands, no man would get Clarke if she had any say in it, unless Clarke wanted to but that seemed unlikely.

Octavia sprung up, angrily glaring at her brother. “You’re part of the problem, Bell, saying things like that.”

“I don’t mean—it’s just that this is the world we live in, O.” He wasn’t wrong. This was the culture here, but saying things like that won’t change anything. It was too late to cool down his hot-headed sister though, and she stormed off towards the castle, with her brother on her heels.

The courtyard lay abandoned before her now, and she dropped down the wall. The soft snow broke her fall, but the height caused her to drop to her knees and roll over her shoulder. A large patch of snow was displaced, anyone would recognize an intruder, so she grabbed a dead branch from the ground and quickly destroyed the evidence. While sprinting through the garden, using the footprints so kindly provided by the two Blake siblings, she got to the main castle entrance. She glanced back at the outer wall and saw the few guards watching towards outside, not inner courtyard. So far, so good.

She looked up towards the tower she was leaning against. The many windows and arrow slits provided a clear route to the top, where one window, stood apart from the rest. It was slightly bigger than the others. She climbed her way to the top, like one those three climbing animals she’d heard of from traveling merchants, and reached the arch-shaped window in no time. The stained glass windows, its image was different from last time, it was now a griffin playing with a cog and a tree branch—she chuckled at Clarke’s sense of humor. She felt around the edges of the window, until she found a place to slightly lift it from its hinges.

She made no sound as she opened the window and pulled the curtains open. Warm air rushed out, and she breathed in the scent of spring—that’s how she described internally how Clarke smelled like. Like a field of grass freshly mowed, or trees flowering before the fruits have grown. She climbed through the window and stood in the candlelit but unoccupied room. She dusted the snow off her tunic, and stepped towards the desk where a quill was resting in a pot of ink. A piece of parchment was open on the desk. Her eyes were draw to it and she barely contained a chuckle. The first lines were serious, numbers about the Arcadian coffers or trade perhaps, but then quickly dissolved in impressive doodles and one full blown drawing of Lexa on top a horse. She picked up the parchment, but quickly put it back when she saw the ink drip due to the force of gravity.

She smiled and turned back into the room.

Suddenly, something moved behind her. She felt the tip of a knife come to rest against the back of her neck. “You’re dea— _oof--how?!”_

She smirked and revealed her hidden knife, still wrapped in a leather sheathe, but firmly planted in a nicely toned stomach. She turned around and briefly her breath caught, like she couldn’t actually believe Clarke was real, and _hers._

“You’re candle was on, the room was still warm, the ink was still wet, and I smelled your scent very strongly.” She rattled off. “I knew you’d either _very_ recently left or, and much more likely, you would try to ambush me.”

Clarke sheepishly smiled, and Lexa took what she came for.

 

She deftly moved backwards, avoiding a slash to the waist, and retaliated with a stab at the torso. Her sword moved past a defensive move that could only be described as ‘rapidly wildly flailing’ and connected against her opponent’s chest. The blonde stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet, and landed firmly on her ass, her wooden sword flew from her grip.

“Take good care of my daughter, Queen Lexa.” King Jacob shouted from the dais overlooking the courtyard. It was still winter and cold, but the snow had now been cleared for her training session with Clarke, who vocalized that she wanted to learn to defend herself. The King agreed without much of a fuss, especially when the other monarch offered to be the teacher.

“You took good care me, yesterday.” Clarke whispered when Lexa reached down to help her back on her feet. Lexa felt a blush on her cheeks, the princess always knew how to push her buttons. They were training for hours and Clarke was rapidly improving, though she didn’t see it herself. The difference in skill was huge, but Lexa saw how quickly the blonde took to sword fighting like she’d been born to do it. It would be a few years until she was at a comparable level to a knight, but knights trained for many more years.

She saw Clarke shiver in the cold. She was drenched in sweat and with this cold weather this was a recipe for disaster. “That’ll be enough for today.”

A slight pout formed on Clarke’s lips and she only just caught herself from kissing it away—King Jacob was still watching and it wouldn’t do to cause a diplomatic incident which could annul their alliance. The king’s daughter was the definition of ‘off-limits’.

They moved inside, where Clarke’s friends were waiting. She recognized Lady Raven and her lifelong friend-slash-potential partner Finn of House Collins. A marriage between those two houses would lead to a powerful union, both were very influential in Arcadia. Bellamy and Octavia of House Blake, Monty Green, Hannah McIntyre, and Jasper Jordan were also present. Their lively discussion ended when they saw her and Clarke approach. She grimaced as Clarke took a step away from her, knowing that their appeared should be kept.

They bowed to her rank, as was customary with foreign nobility, she nodded and greeted them by name and rank.

“Lady Raven, I have those manuscripts you asked for, they’re in my carriage.” The woman nodded stiffly. She knew that, despite their alliance, the Arcadian’s did not like her or her Kingdom. Arcadia was a peace loving nation, traders mostly. They weren’t weak by any stretch, their treasury could be used to raise a tremendous army in case they were attacked, but they hated wars for conquest. They were also proud, but fractured. Houses had intertwined loyalties, some even taking precedent over their loyalty towards their sovereign ruler. If Lexa had been Queen, she would have ended that practice and made them subservient to the crown only, as she had done in her own country when she took back the throne and ended the noble families that had taken it from her father.

“Thank you, I hope there’s new information in them about things I haven’t yet thought about.” Raven was smart, while her siege engineers needed to field test everything, Raven could figure the results out without even needing to build equipment. Designs were much better given to her instead of spending tons of resources building equipment that didn’t work.

“Your advice is quite valuable to me.”

“I suppose you’ve field tested all of them when plundering a few cities up north last summer.” Finn spoke up. He earned a poke in his side from the smart woman.

“Yes, I did.” She smiled thinly. “And your northern border is now secure due to my actions. You’ll no longer fear raids from nomads and Azgedan rebels, I heard they’d been quite the nuisance the past decade.”

“We’re all amongst friends here, right?” Clarke tried.

 “I must bid you farewell.” Clarke’s face dropped a bit, but Lexa bowed to her like she would an equal—to everyone else’s surprise—and left the room.

She knew Clarke’s friends didn’t like her much for carnage she’d caused amongst her own nobles, and the many lives her armies had taken in reconquering the lands that rightfully belonged to her—and a bit more for good measure. In the past six years since she’d taken the throne, her country prospered like never before, and Arcadia thrived with it, perhaps even more than hers.

Kongeda had lost a lot of land when her father and mother had been murdered and a pretender had sat on the throne. Ontari, a daughter to an uncle, had ruled poorly facing peasant rebellions due to a lack of food. Then the nomads came and conquered the outskirt as Ontari lost battle after battle. When Lexa returned, she had found the kingdom torn apart by internal strife, outside raids, famine and disease. Even when outnumbered, she managed to defeat Ontari’s armies and killed all opposing noble families, redistributing the estates amongst her loyal allies. King Jacob only supported her because a strong Kongeda meant a strong Arcadia.

It wasn’t long until Clarke found her guest chambers, her guards let the princess through--there wasn’t much that could stop a force like her anyway.

“I’m sorry about them.” Clarke sat down on the edge of the large bed, while she turned around at her desk, pausing her writing about the proposed agreement between Jacob and her, extending their alliance.

“Don’t be.”

“They keep telling me I shouldn’t be around you.” Clarke said. “I keep telling myself I shouldn’t like you because of what you did and what your Kingdom does.” Lexa nodded. “I shouldn’t, but you’re so—that conqueror isn’t you.”

“But it is.”

“You’re much more than that. You’re a compassionate and kind ruler to those that are loyal. And you inspire loyalty all around you.” Lexa moved to sit beside Clarke. “But yes, you are _also_ a conqueror. But what does that make me, when I provide the plans on _how_ to divide your enemies, how to play them against each other, how to cut off enemy supplies and tell you where you will be ambushed?”

“Your advice helped me bring a swift end—without your strategy the campaign would’ve lasted beyond the winter well into the summer.” The fact that Clarke helped her plan her campaigns ever since she returned last year and started their secret relationship, was almost a bigger secret than their relationship itself. She wondered what would shock the nobles of Arcadia more, the fact that Clarke was a strategic mastermind, that she had an intimate relationship out of wedlock with a woman from another kingdom that was also a queen, or that she helped that queen conquer and win wars. “Arguably, your help has saved lives… Prolonged wars are deadly for all involved.”

Lexa put her hand on the princess’ leg. She squeezed softly. “Plus, I’ll be here sooner.”

Clarke smirked. “I know… It’s purely for selfish reasons that I help you. You’re so hot when you return victorious. All I have to get off on are stories about your victories in the field.” Clarke’s expertise was everything logistics, and grand strategy, hers was battles and tactics. Together, they could conquer the world, if they had the time and desire.

“I like those selfish reasons very much.”

 

 

On her way back from Arcadia she saw a brunette talking, whispering, and blushing, with one of her scouts. The scout, whose name she was suddenly extremely interested in, had requested to come with her. Anya had told her he showed promise, but she now knew the real reason why he wanted to come. She couldn’t blame him, and he had now provided an excellent opportunity for her.

****

**_One and a half year ago_ **

 

Sand dusted her as she pulled her scarf tightly around her face. The sun glared down on the hellish landscape that were the southern deserts. A large raid had come during the spring, and Lexa felt the need to retaliate against the nomads living in the desert, she couldn’t let the raping and pillaging continue.

A gut churning stench reached her nose. The sun’s never-ending blaze caused the dead to rot even faster. The battle had been finished just hours earlier—she’d managed to avoid getting hurt this time, Clarke would be relieved—but the flesh and blood was already causing the smell to be unbearable. Luckily there were no carrion birds and rats living in these hostile grounds, she hated those with a passion.

Lexa assisted her healers as they scurried through the dead in search of the barely living. It was a cruel practice, only those wearing her colors would be helped, there wasn’t enough medical supplies, nor time, to help all wounded. And her people came first, always. She did allow unarmed warriors to find their friends between the dead and collect the bodies. Provided they left weapons and armor on the ground, those were her spoils of the battle.

Large bonfires were erupted further down the body filled dunes surrounding this small oasis. Lexa had ambushed the other army and managed to completely surround and envelope those camped near the only source of fresh water for leagues in each direction. It had been a one-sided slaughter, they killed thousands, maybe even ten thousand, but every battle had its cost. Those that died, both from her side and the nomads that were not collected, would be burnt in large funeral pyres, as was their custom. Clarke had told her to do it quickly, to prevent disease from spreading from the death.

Far away from the piles of bodies, thousands upon thousands were stacked near the bonfires to be burnt, medical tents were being erected. She elected to visit her wounded, when she saw a flash of something that simply couldn’t be here. She broke into a sprint, even in this heat and after a battle, and rushed inside the newly erected medical tent. There she saw her, a blonde haired woman working on sowing a nasty thigh wound up. Her shawl, which had come loose in her haste, waved in the win as she moved with large strides towards the doctor. She grabbed the woman by her arm and spun her around. Startled blue eyes widened at her.

“What are you doing _here?_ ”

“What does it look like?” The blonde spun back around and ignored her, earning a worried glance from another healer that didn’t know who Clarke was. His eyes grew wide as Lexa sighed exasperated, to him it must’ve seemed that the blonde got away with insulting rudeness others would be spending a night—or longer—in the dungeons for.

“How—why—what?”

“Did my queen suffer a heatstroke? Normally you’re much more eloquent.” Clarke quipped without looking up from her patient. Ryder, her personal guard, promoted from his rank as a common soldier because she trusted him, guffawed but quickly silenced himself.

Lexa decided that she could only win one battle today. “What do you need?”

“Your healers are not efficient. You have no system, everyone is just doing their thing.” Clarke sighed.

“What do you recommend?” Lexa noticed it as well, only because Clarke had now pointed it out. “No, better yet, take charge of my healers.”

If she’d expected Clarke to shy away from the task, she’d be wrong. It was like a switch was turned and the blonde stopped treating her own patient and instead restructured the complete work flow. Unitary duties were assigned to specific persons. Untrained students had menial jobs such as simply getting water and boiling to clean it—Lexa had no clue what for but Clarke claimed it helped—and others had the simple task of washing bandages. More experienced healers were first sent to categorize the wounded, and the most knowledgeable were sent to work on them.

She watched, somewhat uselessly, as Clarke then rushed from one patient to the next, with her new stream of helpers that provided the materials exactly as she needed them. Her speed to help the wounded increased tenfold. Lexa was sure Clarke alone saved more people than all her other troops combined.

“Lexa, make more bandages from the clothes of your soldiers, we are running out.” Clarke shouted at her, and she ducked her head like she’d done when commanded by her teachers when she’d been a child, and followed the order. Only when she was on the way back, arms stuffed with fresh bandages in all kinds of colors and shapes, given voluntarily by her warriors, that she remembered she was the Queen and she hadn’t followed an order in _years._ When she got back to Clarke, handing over the bandages, she was given another order to get more people to boil and clean used bandages, for rewrapping the most serious wounds.

She kept running in and out of the tent, sometimes even stopping by a few of her men and women, most she stopped by would not survive the night no matter how much care Clarke gave them, and she said a few words to them.

When a deceitful cold, especially in contrast with the heat of the day, settled on the camp as the sun disappeared from the sky and she shivered from exposure and exhaustion, she saw Clarke finally rest. She collapsed in an empty chair in the corner of the tent. Lexa was by her side immediately with water and food. Clarke drank greedily, water sloshing over her chin, and then ate with manners unbefitting to a princess, but Lexa couldn’t care less.

Tired and sad eyes stared up at her, and Lexa wondered if this had been Clarke’s first time in such an environment. The blonde hadn’t seen much of the world and Arcadia was peaceful. If this was the princess’ first time taking charge, it was even more impressive than it already was.

“We’ve lost so many.” Clarke stared at the pile of men and women they weren’t able to save, which was many. Bodies were piling up at a few designated entryways, ready to be moved towards the burning pyres. Lexa hated the lack of proper respect for the dead, but very little could be done when disease could spread from the dead unto the dying and from the dying unto the living.

“Clarke.” She battled away her exhaustion and spoke forcefully. “You’ve probably singlehandedly saved five hundred lives today. Then you also doubled the efficiency of all other healers.” She performed a quick calculation while counting the people that would survive. “With your help, we’ve managed to save three times as much as I had expected to save beforehand.”

Clarke nodded, but the spark did not return to those blue eyes. “There’s so much dead, I’ve never—“

Lexa took the blonde’s blood stained hands in hers and brought them to her lips, not caring about the fact that everyone could see them. They didn’t know who Clarke was—just that the blonde saved many of their friend’s lives.

“Is it always like this?” Lexa hesitated, this was a clean, decisive victory. This was what a good victory looked like. The more hard fought victories were much worse.

“Often, it’s worse.” She didn’t mince her words, Clarke could handle the truth. “Did you, did you see the battle?” Clarke shook her head, Lexa let out an elated sigh. She didn’t want the blonde to associate her with her most violent tendencies—those that she only let out in battle.

“Why sacrifice so many lives for a few thousand buckets of sand?”

She explained how much damage these nomadic raiders could do. The famines they created when they raided the food stores of cities, together with the lives and destruction they brought upon those that resisted. Defensively, there wasn’t much she could do. There’s was too much land to cover and spreading out just left her more vulnerable. “The only way to defend is to kill the threat. My knights know this. If I don’t defend my lands, it will be an invitation for more raids, and for my people to view me as a weak leader. They would depose me and throw the kingdom into chaos. I believe that would cause much more suffering than these battles.”

Clarke nodded. “Does your desire to rule, your rightful claim to the throne, play a part in this? If you could save just one life by stepping down, taking into account all consequences, would you? If more than one, how many would it take?”

Lexa opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it again. Clarke didn’t quite look at her, her eyes had dropped and she swayed in her seat. Perhaps the blonde wasn’t even entirely lucid when she’d voiced those thoughts, even though they cut her like sharp daggers. The queen didn’t quite know how to respond—she didn’t even know the answer to them.

A painful moan reached them. Clarke, suddenly awake, sprung up and stepped towards the source. Lexa saw the blonde topple over again from exhaustion and was barely in time to keep her from collapsing for real this time. “Clarke, you’re too tired to stand. You should rest.”

She’d never know if the blonde wanted to protest, because as she opened her mouth, she started yawning until she collapsed in her arms fast asleep. Lexa brushed her forehead with her lips and carried the blonde to another empty provisional bed, just a few pieces of cloth strewn on the ground to provide a little bit of comfort to the wounded and tired.

Lexa sat down at the feet end as Clarke curled up in a small ball. She stared first at the blood on her hands—this time from saving people instead of killing them—and then around herself and took it all in.

 _All else being equal, how much suffering is it worth for me to remain on the throne?_ By birth, it was her right to be on the throne, but she’d never truly thought about the worth of her right to rule. She didn’t doubt her actions, because she truly believed that she’d bettered the lives of the people in her kingdom from the moment she’d ascended the throne after killing the pretender Ontari. But what if she was no longer the best candidate? Would she defend her right to rule? _Should_ she?

 

 

Lexa woke first after a fitful sleep, she never slept well after a battle, but the thoughts that were on her mind moments before falling asleep in the chair next to Clarke’s bedroll reverbed in her dreams. Clarke stirred and looked up at her with worried eyes. The blonde probably saw the shadows underneath her eyes.

“Lexa, what I said yesterday, I didn’t…” So Clarke had been lucid after all. It was no surprise, those words were as accurate as her aim with a bow.

“It’s okay, Clarke. You’ve given me much to think about.”

“They were not just about you.” Lexa frowned, had Clarke been speaking about herself too? “As you know, my country is less progressive than yours, women are of lower status. When I become Queen, the nobility will not respect me like my father, especially when I don’t have a strong husband they approve.”

Lexa almost growled at the thought of Clarke being with a man. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about the possibility. But for Clarke she would draw the same conclusion as she had for herself. It was their right to rule and she’d defend that right as she would defend her own house. If she was deposed by a stronger force, it must mean that she wasn’t meant to rule anymore. But she wouldn’t bow down to a lesser force simply to avoid a fight. That would mean that any person with some support could become king.

“You will be an excellent Queen, and I would support your claim however I can.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more heads up, this chapter has potentially triggering moments.

**_Now_ **

****

The cloth rustled and she took a hesitant step towards the entrance. Blue linen, lined with gold, made way for the leader of the other side. Her blonde hair was still unmatched in their beauty, and blue eyes found hers like always. Lexa did not hesitate, and dropped all decorum the moment the tent cloth fell back and they were obscured from outside eyes. She enveloped the blonde in a tight hug, so tight she heard a sound of complaint escape the princess’—Queen’s, now—lips. She pressed her lips to the base of Clarke’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing she said. “I wish I could’ve been there for you.”

The blonde nodded against her and returned the hug. They stood there, like statues, for what must’ve been minutes. Lexa dragged Clarke down to the rugs and pillows on the floor of the tent. They provided much needed comfort.

“Jake was a good man—I wanted to be at his funeral.”

“He liked you a lot, you know.” Clarke offered. “Despite vastly different political views, and his love for peace, he trusted you completely.”

Lexa trusted him as well. From the moment she’d let it be known that she wanted to retake the throne, King Jacob was there to provide aid. Mostly logistical and financial, his ships transported her troops on the many rivers dividing Kongeda’s lands, enabling her armies more freedom of movement.

“We butted heads often, but we respected each other. I remember how you had to pull us apart when things got heated last year—you were afraid I was going to draw my sword.” Lexa chuckled at the memory.

“Well, you’d already thrown your dagger at the poor swine the cooks had made for dinner.” She remembered how she’d pinned the animal to the wall with the force of her throw. “The gravy stains were difficult to remove from the silk curtains. Mom was livid at you.”

“I don’t even remember what it was about.”

“Probably my love life—as my father pushed for getting me married and you always became irate around that subject.”

“Irate?” Clarke grinned and pressed an apologetic kiss just below her chin. “You think he knew already? Trying to see when I would snap and expose us?”

“That would be something he’d do.”

They settled into a comfortable silence. Clarke toyed with a strand of brown hair that had slipped from her braids—Lexa stared into the distance, seeing through the tent cloth and visualizing the stand-off between the two armies. In the middle of the field, they could hear the jumble of both armies. Hammers clanging as they smashed iron and steel plates into shapes, grinding stones sharpened bladed, horses whinnied, and shouts carried in the wind. Closer by, she heard the same birds that landed on the middle of the field. Their feathers ruffled as they flew past the tent, perhaps mystified by the strange addition to their habitat.

When she turned back to Clarke, she saw that grief had been replaced by anger. “Why are we here, Lexa?”

Lexa glanced away. “You tell me. You declared war on _me_.”

She knew it was the wrong thing to say. Clarke huffed and glared at her.

“I couldn’t overpower my nobles—almost all of them called for blood. _Your_ blood.” Lexa nodded, unable to disagree. “When my father died… I wasn’t ready. He had no male heir, I have no husband, and they don’t view a woman as a legitimate ruler. I tried to dissuade them—but you, _you_ just had to kill him.”

“That animal deserted to die.”

“He did—but if you hadn’t we would be here.” She couldn’t dispute that, because that was a cold hard fact.

“I hadn’t heard yet—when I challenged him—that your father was dead.”

Words could only spread as fast as the fastest riders. Clarke didn’t take it for an excuse. “Would you have spared him otherwise?”

“He might’ve lived, if he’d said and done the right things.”

“You knew he wouldn’t.” Lexa nodded again. “You followed him to where he was with Lady Raven, secluded, and called him out on what he did. The only way to defend his honor was a duel, you knew he would challenge you to one.”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“You knew he’d challenge you, and then you could kill him legally. But you know that laws are not strictly followed when outside nobility is concerned. Even if my,” Clarke broke over the word, “ _father_ were still alive, he’d have little choice but to sever relations or risk rebellion.”

“I know.”

Clarke threw her hands up in anger and stomped towards her. The princess grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her up against the pole keeping the tent standing, the whole tent shook at the action. “Damnit Lexa.”

A fist pounded against her ribcage. She winced at the first impact, but there was no power behind the blows. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“He wasn’t worth it.” Lexa flared up in anger, and with dexterity pulled down Clarke’s dress until she was standing in her corset in front of her. Beneath the white lace, blue and purple bruises could still clearly be seen. Self-conscious about the bruises on her body, Clarke pulled the dress back up, but Lexa stopped her and placed a soft kiss on a blue splotch just above the princess’ breasts. The blonde deigned back, Lexa grimaced knowing that the ration was involuntary.

“You know why.” She said softly, her anger evaporating just as quickly as it had flared up. “I may be a ruthless conqueror, but there’s one thing I cannot permit. Ever. Especially not towards _you_.”

“I know you can’t—you did what you had to do. And I’m glad you did. Knowing that he’s dead helped me heal. I just still feel…” Clarke’s voice was barely a whisper above the rustling of the tent cloth in the wind. “I just feel so dirty.” She started to remove her corset, Lexa hoped she didn’t react to the many bruises in all colors around the queen’s breasts and down her stomach, on her thighs, closing in towards her center. “Please, Lexa, make me feel beautiful again.”

“Clarke, you’re always beautiful.”

 

**_Around two months ago_ **

 

Lexa arrived at the King’s castle, her escort today was minimal, only Ryder and Sirvus—two of the men she’d accompanied back into Polis after the first grand campaign, first of many, had concluded— followed her inside the capital of the neighboring kingdom. Arcadia was now used to her presence, because she tried to come here as often as she could. Pretense of being allied to a neighboring King, but she knew better. Even the king seemed to know better, as he had summoned her this time with news about Clarke. The king didn’t explain anything else.

The ruler of the kingdom stood waiting at the portcullis, behind him were two horse-sized wooden doors, where two riders could pass below the large gates with room to spare. Arcadia was rich, being located near a natural harbor, and the size of the buildings reflected that wealth.

“Jacob,” he helped her down her horse. Up close, she saw the lines of worry in his face. “What is wrong?”

“Lexa, I know you and Clarke are… close.” Based on his tone he knew more or less exactly how close the two of them had become. She tensed up, but a simple shake of Jacob’s head told her that was not the reason her presence had been requested. “I don’t approve of your relationship—it would not be fruitful for the kingdom,” Lexa knew what he meant with that: she couldn’t produce an heir with Clarke, “but my daughter’s happiness is more important to me than that.”

“What happened?” She couldn’t keep the steel from her voice this time.

The king looked away. “I don’t know. She returned home from an expedition with her friends and many nobles, and hasn’t left her room since. She hardly eats and doesn’t speak.”

Lexa brushed past the king, forgetting his status as her shoulder bumped into him, bringing him off balance. She called out to her escorts to stay where they were, she knew she was safe here. Jacob scrambled to keep up. “Who did she leave with?”

“Just her friends, the heirs and heiresses of the local nobility, I believe you’ve met all of them over the years.” She nodded.

“And has anyone said anything?” Jacob shook his head. They turned into a spiral staircase and despite the tight corners, she took the steps two at a time. Perspiration set on her forehead when she reached the top, the king was heaving as he had tried to keep up. He was much older than her, and hasn’t been a warrior for many years.

They found Abby standing near one of the large wooden doors, wearing a simple gown. The queen’s normal impeccable hair was in disarray as she stared at the door in vain. As their hurried footsteps reached Clarke’s mother, she looked up, surprised to see her. “Queen Lexa, what are you doing here?”

It seems that not everyone had picked up on their relationship, luckily. Maybe Clarke had confided in her father, she knew that the two of them were very close and Clarke’s life was of vital importance to the realm—especially her partner choice. From what she knew of Abby, she was a mother that cared a lot, but also cared for her children’s success in life, perhaps more than their happiness.

“I requested her presence.” Jacob said. “She and Clarke are friends.”

Abby cast her a wary glance, but stepped away from the door. Lexa noted the discarded lunch plate, with most items untouched, next to the door. Soft, but resolutely, she knocked. “ _Klark_?”

Barely perceivable, she heard a surprised whimper from the room. “L-Lexa?” The voice was rough and scratchy from disuse and lack of hydration.

“ _Sha_ , I am here. Can you let me in?” She heard a shuffle on the other side, something touched the door, but then Clarke seemed to hesitate. “You know I’ll get in some way or another, it will save us both a lot of trouble if you’ll just open the door.”

The lock clicked, and the door opened just a few degrees and she saw a dark room beyond the thick wooden barrier. A pale face, with blood-shot eyes that had lost their usual vibrancy stared back at her, large shadows clung to the blonde’s cheeks, that seemed more gaunt than she remembered. Clarke’s eyes flittered across the hallway, warily resting on her father and mother for a second and then finding hers again.

“Can I come in? They will remain outside.” Abby, happy with any progress at this point, nodded and stepped away from the door. Lexa slipped inside, after quickly grabbing the plate with food from the floor, and closed the door behind her.

The room was dark, the curtains were closed, but she’d been here often enough to be able to find most of the furniture blind. She placed the tray on the dresser, and took Clarke by the hand to escort her to the bed. The princess flinched when she reached out.

An iron fist clenched around her heart right away. She’s almost sure of what had happened to the princess, and she felt rage flare up inside her. Images of the night her parents were murdered by Azgedan soldiers flashed before her eyes. She was never able to scrub memories from her mind. She had watched from the closet with her little brother, hands over his ears and eyes, but she was unable to look away and drown out the screams her mother made. She clamped down on the emotions brought back from the memory and reeled in the anger that flared up. Now was not the time.

Lexa tried again, slowly, and reached out while murmuring softly. “It’s safe Clarke.”

A whimper reached her ears and she heard Clarke scramble back. Her heart broke seeing the strong girl like this. She quickly jumped up and searched in the top drawer in Clarke’s desk, grabbing flint and a steel, striking once created a large spark which landed on the torch mounted to the wall. The room was immediately cast in an orange glow. She found Clarke scurried away in the corner, making herself as small as possible.

She got down on her knees, and crawled until she was right in front of the woman, but still left a way out for if the blonde wanted to run—being cornered could enhance her fears. “It’s me, see?”

A nod.

“Nobody will hurt you when I’m here.”

She opened her arms, and waited. It did not take long for Clarke to crawl out of the corner and nestle in them. Once safely inside her arms, Clarke started shaking, then sobbing, and finally she felt wetness seep into her clothes where Clarke had buried her face. She held her tightly.

A torch can’t burn forever, as the last lights dimmed, and Clarke had fallen asleep, she waited and kept softly rocking the blonde in her arms. Rage boiled inside her, she wanted—needed—to kill something, _someone._ She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails broke her own skin. Every time Clarke whimpered during the night, she drew more of her own blood while whispering comforting words into the blonde’s ear. The two emotions were at war with each other, the need for vengeance and the need to protect and care for the woman she loved pulled her in two directions. Right now, the need to care for Clarke won out, but she wondered how long she could stave off the other side of herself.

She didn’t know how long they stayed there, sitting against the cobblestone walls in the dark corner of the room, but Clarke stirred after hours of fitful sleep and Lexa waited until the blonde had fully awoken. Abby, Jacob, or a servant, she hadn’t sheen who, had delivered a new tray of food, and she’d collected it during the night. She’d also opened up the curtains to let the natural light in. “Drink this.” She held up a cup of milk.

Clarke drank greedily. As she raised the cup to her mouth, her tunic slipped from her arms, exposing more of her flesh. Lexa’s eyes widened at the large bruises, surely created by human hands, and couldn’t contain a gasp. She’d expected to find bodily harm, but seeing it on Clarke was different.

“ _Klark..._ ” Self-conscious, the blonde shirked back and pulled up her sleeves. Softly, Lexa caught her, and pulled them back down. “What happened—who did this?”

Clarke burst into tears.

A single name was uttered over and over and over and over again.

“Finn.”

****

Lexa had stayed in Arcadia castle for a full week, watching Clarke recover. She’d hoped her anger and taste for revenge would die down, but it only seemed to grow. She soon found herself in confrontation with King Jacob, who would not quench her thirst for vengeance.

“Finn of House Collins has attacked the princess—your _daughter—_ and you do nothing?” She slammed her fist on the table, silver cups of wine toppled over at the force and the red liquid in them spilled over the table. The King had dismissed the all servants for this dinner, knowing that sensitive subjects would be discussed during this conference. “I’d have him, his family and everyone that could have prevented it drawn up and quartered.”

And she wasn’t bluffing or exaggerating. She drew her sword and swept over the table, cutting apart cutlery and food, imagining the screams of Finn as she cut him piece by piece.

“You’ve been able to discern that he didn’t—”

“You can say _rape_.”

“—that Clarke managed to get away before he could rape her.”

“And that makes it alright? You know the only reason Clarke managed to get away was because _I_ trained her in combat. Did you see the bruises on her body? Clarke was— _is_ strong, and it’s a miracle she managed to overpower one of your _finest_ knights.”  

Clarke had told her what happened. The boy had cornered her in the woods outside the city after he’d promised to bring her back. At first there had been three of them, Bellamy had left before they had reached the farmlands directly surrounding the capital. There, Clarke had resisted Finn, at first she’d thought he would back down but he had continued and undressed her after roughly throwing her against a tree. She’d struck when he had been undressing himself—and managed to grab her horse and run.

Telling the whole story had taken days, often requiring breaks until Clarke could relive what had happened to her. Because in a way, to recall what had happened you had to relive the moment.

The king was not hearing anything she hadn’t told him a thousand times by now. She couldn’t publicly call for Finn’s head, because officially she had nothing to with this situation. Jacob sighed.

“Finn is slated to marry with Raven Reyes, and his father’s sister is married to the head of House Blake. They are the three strongest noble families in the realm. Together, they are more powerful than the crown. He’s the heir of House Collins, set to inherit the Duchy of Colina.”

“If you want my armies…” Lexa offered, but she knew the king couldn’t accept. That kind of outside help would destroy his legitimate claim to rule the lands and put even Clarke’s ascension in jeopardy. She understood the impossible position the king was in. Attempting to try Finn, the heir of House Collins, for something like this would be seen as a powerplay from the king, with the only evidence being provided by Clarke. It would result in a civil war, Lexa knew this. The king could win, but the cost for justice would be enormous.

The king couldn’t act.

But she could.

“If you won’t seek justice. I will.” With a flourish, she spun around and left the king in the dining room calling after her not to do whatever she was planning to do. Servants rushed into the room past her, already cleaning up the mess she’d made. She grabbed one of the servants by wrist and ripped the cleaning cloth from her hands. Fearful and startled, the poor girl shrunk back eying her sword warily. She scrubbed the grease and wine from her sword and put it back into the scabbard on her hip. With a few copper coins as compensation for the distress she’d caused, she gave the cloth back to the servant.

As she turned the corner towards the stable, she heard someone call her by her title.

Lexa whipped around and found a short raven haired woman hiding in the shadows of the large walls. She quickly stalked over to the woman. “Octavia, speak.”

“My Queen, I’ve heard the vile creature speak.” Based on the tone of her voice, Lexa knew enough. “He has indeed done what the princess claimed.”

“What, precisely, did you hear?” Octavia hesitated.

“Promise me you won’t retaliate against my brother.”

“You dare to demand from your queen?” She snarled. “I have promised you and Lincoln a title in my kingdom, much better than you’ll inherit here, so do as you’re told and report your findings.”

Octavia was one of her spies, recruited by pure chance as the poor woman fell in love with one of her trusted distant cousins of House Trikru. Using that connection, she managed to persuade the woman to work for her. Octavia’s best friends were Lady Raven and Clarke, and every single mission she’d ever given the youngest of the Blake heirs was to protect Clarke.

“I overheard him say to my brother that Clarke was a fierce fighter, but that he managed to ‘taste the best parts of the princess’.” Her voice was laced with disgust as she said this. “My brother—I couldn’t see his face—clenched his fists.”

“But he didn’t voice his concerns. Would he be on my side during a trial?” Octavia shook her head. Loyalty between families ran high, and Arcadia’s nobles had a rich history of loyalty to each other and to the king, with some bonds being stronger than others. It’s a pity Octavia’s testimony would not hold the same weight in this backwards kingdom. Knowing that Octavia had no reason to lie, especially when it discredited her own brother whom she loved dearly, she believed her.

Finn was guilty.

“Where is Finn now?”

“Courting Lady Raven in the forest near her estate, hunting trip for the rest of the week I believe.”

“Thanks Octavia. Could you tell Clarke I’m sorry? Also, when I have dealt with Finn, find out what the reaction of the nobility of Arcadia is.” She whistled and her horse burst from the stables. While it was in full gallop, she grabbed the reigns and swung herself on the saddle.

 

 

She’d left without her attendants, but Ryder and Sirvus managed to catch up two days later, they looked worried at her over boiling rage. _Finn would die_. She knew that much. “ _Heda,_ please, you’re not thinking logically right now.”

Ryder’s attempts to persuade her to stop this folly—murdering a nobleman in another kingdom which gave them a casus belli, a reason for war, despite their alliance—fell on deaf ears. So he sped past her, and blocked the road. She pulled the reigns on her horse, who also protested and tried to buck her off the saddle, as if Samos also agreed with her guard that this idea was bad. “I will not be dissuaded from this, Ryder. Either listen to your Queen, or get out of my way.”

She flourished her weapon, knowing that Ryder would obey anyway. He relented and apologized.

“If someone tried to rape Morae, what would you do if you couldn’t get justice by conventional means?” Morae, the wife whose bonding bracelet her guard lost in a bet, was the most important person—besides his son—in Ryder’s life. He looked at her with surprise and sympathy, the man had not known the depth of her relationship with the princess of Arcadia, nor what had happened to her.

She spurred her horse to continue. The animal was still uneasy at the way it was being pushed, but her anger knew no bounds and she would apologize to her friend later. Lots of sugar would do—the expensive good from lands far away was the only thing that could persuade the horse. They sped through the dense forest, small critters hastily jumped out of their path as the hooves thundered and drowned out all sounds that nature made.

Finally, she found tracks of other travelers, eight horses to be precise. Exactly the amount she’d take, three escorts per noble and one for both Raven and Finn. She followed the tracks away from the main road, and slowed down to follow through the myriad of trees. Soon enough, she found four escorts and six horses, without their charges, probably giving them some privacy.

They noticed her too, but did not recognize her because she flew no recognizable colors. To them, they could’ve been ordinary highwaymen—well slightly less ordinary based on the quality of their steel and horses. The guards shouted at each other, one left the pack to run to the horses, ready to warn his master and get them to safety.

Her first arrow, tipped with a metal spherical arrowhead wrapped in cloth that was normally used to hunt squirrels, struck true on the back of the man’s head. He collapsed. The others drew their swords but they were on the ground and she was on a horse. The man tried to slash at Samos, but the chainmail covered horse simple shrugged the blow away. She struck him with the pommel of the sword, gripping the blade by its sharp end in her gloved fist. She wasn’t here to kill these simple foot soldiers that were part of Lady Reyes’ estate.

Ryder and Sirvus had taken care of the other two escorts and were binding them to trees with rope. Meanwhile, she followed the direction the guard had she’d shot had gone towards. Soon, she noticed footprints in the dirt, and tracked them towards the sound of a stream with a waterfall. An excellent location for courting a noblewoman.

“Of course you can’t use a rope spring to launch rocks over three hundred meters and expect them to do damage! You need a counterweight trebuchet for that. Your design won’t work, Finn.” She heard a woman exclaim—who was right—and she gripped the golden pommel of her sabre until her knuckles grew white.

“You’re just reading those manuscripts of yours, they can say anything, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“These manuscripts are bought from Polis’ researchers—that kingdom has been in constant war these years and would know about siege equipment. And I _wrote_ most of them.”

“King Jacob just loves peace too much. Polis will run out of targets soon, and who’s left? Us. We should attack when their butch queen is out campaigning.”

She decided to make herself known. Without much fanfare she stepped into the clearing and surprised both of them. Finn blanched, knowing his words were overheard. She had to restrain herself from simply cutting him down. This had to go down a certain way. She saw the last two escorts standing on the edge of the clearing. They must be the Lady’s most trusted ones, for they intruded on her privacy with the Lord Collin’s heir.

“Butch queen, huh, I can see why you need to force yourself on the ladies to have a chance.” She saw Finn blanch even further.

“Queen Lexa!” Raven exclaimed. Surprised but not hostile to see her here. Lexa was sad that she was engaged to a man like Finn, and that she’d have to witness this moment. But she needed witnesses. Her own two escorts showed up, but stayed respectfully at the edge of the clearing. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to accuse your fiancée of sexually assaulting and attempting to rape the princess of Arcadia.” Now, Finn positively saw green.

“What?!” Raven reared on Finn, who hid his fear and anger at once and declared himself innocent. Raven believed him—wishing to see the good in his character. Lexa saw the devotion in Raven’s gaze: the woman loved her fiancée, but love could blind. She felt sorry for what she had to do, Raven was innocent as far as she knew. “How dare you accuse him like that?! Finn’s right, you’re just looking for an excuse to conquer everyone around you!”

Lexa shook her head. “If Finn is innocent, why is he letting you come to his defense? Surely, such a noble man can defend himself against baseless accusations. I wouldn’t want to be seen near such a feeble man, not even defending his honor in front of the woman he’s courting.”

Finn stood up straight and eyed her up. His arms were thrice the size of hers and he towered over her, his slick black hair was styled back. On his hip he wore a sword like any self-respecting knight would. He drew the weapon. “Raven, step back. These baseless accusations hold no ground and slander my good name. My honor is damaged. I challenge you, Lexa the _butch_ queen, to a duel.”

Raven eyed her warily. “Finn, you know her reputation…”

“Is probably just as fake as these accusations. Stories of greatness to inspire the men she commands, hah. Fabrications, that’s what they are.”

“I accept.” He’d bitten. She has her witnesses. Her attendants had brought the guards and dumped them on the ground. They were starting to get to, surprised to be bound, but even more surprised to still live.

She drew her sword as well. Hers was a long but light sabre, perfect for her smaller stature. His was a sword of equal length, but the higher mass meant a more deadly weapon.

There wasn’t much fanfare to a spontaneous duel for honor—so Finn charged the moment she’d raised her weapon. He struck her with a downwards cut, she raised her weapon at an angle and directed the blade away from her body. His sword slid along the sharp edge, creating a shower of sparks, until it flew of the tip. Finn used the fact that both of their weapons were out of use to strike with his knee. She sprung back, absorbing the blow in her stomach as much as possible, but groaned on the impact.

Finn had a confident smile on his face.

Lexa smirked behind her weapon as she’d raised it above her head, point down towards the boy. This duel basically was murder, like dueling a kid was murder in the eyes of the law, and if she finished it too quickly it could be seen as such.

Finn struck again, now horizontally, the strike had much force behind it, but little skill. She directed the force away from herself and Finn only struck air. His whole body was open to attack, and she could’ve simply put her sword through his heart. Instead, she acted like she was too much out of balance to strike him. She rolled back, dodging another one of his attacks, and readied her blade.

Then Finn surprised her. He kicked up sand, which flew straight into her eyes. The normal reaction would be to blink and raise your hands to protect them, but her training didn’t allow her to feel her stinging eyes. He struck, confident at her inability to defend, but she ignored the pain in her eyes and slid her blade along his until she reached his handguard. She twisted and used the metal guards to protect his hands from a sliding blade as a lever and soon his sword flew through the air and outside his hand. She continued her twisting slash, and his sword hand followed after his weapon.

Raven’s screams drowned out Finn’s. He stumbled, dazed, as if it didn’t truly register that his hand had been dismembered. Lexa heard a series of pleas and no’s from Raven. But she only had eyes for Finn. The knight slumped down on his knees as he cradled his arm to his chest. He tried to still the bleeding by messily pressing a piece of his tunic against the open wound. His shirt was soon soaked in blood.

Lexa reveled at the sight of his panicked expression, allowing her mind to return from her battle state.

She leveled her blade on his chest.

“Don’t kill me.” He pleaded. “Please!”

“You shouldn’t have assaulted Clarke.” She hissed.

“What do you want? I’ll admit it.” Raven’s pleas did not lessen at this revelation. “I did it, okay, because I wanted her, I wanted her because she was the forbidden fruit. She didn’t want me, though I offered, my father offered, the King wouldn’t agree to a marriage. So I tried to take what, by right of my family as the most influential in Arcadia, should have been mine.”

Lexa nodded.

And pushed the sword through his neck.

He gurgled and reached with his hand and bloody stump for his neck as blood welled up around the wound. Raven wailed as she watched the man she loved be held up purely by the blade she’d stuck through his throat. She pulled back the sword and blood spurted out once the blade was free. Finn collapsed backwards, folding at the knees, and the grass colored red.

Immediately she dropped down and an arrow passed through the space she’d been occupying. Two more arrows flew whipped past, going in the other direction, and the two remaining escorts of Lady Raven, who was now cradling the body of Finn and weeping uncontrollably, clutched their shoulder and leg. They would live, if given proper treatment, and tell the tale.

She stepped closer to Raven. Who turned and made to grab Finn’s lost weapon. She struck, unhinged and uncontrolled, and Lexa swatted the blade out of the grieving woman’s hands. “My fight was not with you.” She cut a piece of Finn’s blouse, one without blood drenching it, and cleaned her blade before putting it back into the scabbard on her hip. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the person he was.”

She turned her back and left the lady sobbing. Her guards untied the escorts. “Escort Raven back to her estate.” She ordered the men. Samos was waiting for her at the edge of the clearing, flanked by both Ryder and Sirvus, who’d already mounted their horses.

“We must leave now. We’re no longer welcome in this Kingdom.”

 

 

The moment she got back to Polis, the capital of the Kingdom of Kongeda, she heard that King Jacob had died in a hunting accident. Clark had become queen.

A few days later, war broke out between the two kingdoms.

 

**_Now_ **

 

“Please don’t fight on the front lines today. Almost my entire court wants your blood.” She shook her head. No such promises could be made. Besides, she needed to be on the front for what she was planning.

They were lying on the carpet, limbs intertwined and clothes discarded, and were both staring emptily at the roof above their heads. The tent cloth waved rhythmically in the wind and rustled whenever a strong gust blew over. They’d made love, as silently as they could, and Lexa had worshipped every part of Clarke’s body as she did.

“I’ve ordered my troops to leave you unharmed.” Lexa told the blonde princess. “If the battle is lost, please surrender and they won’t touch you.”

She’d promised rewards for the battalion that captured the queen and brought the blonde to her—but she also promised grave torture should she be harmed unnecessarily. Her troops knew from previous campaigns that Lexa was not above disciplining her own soldiers if they misbehaved. The stories of how she executed a large part of her own army for disobeying her one carnal rule: no rape and murder. Plunder had been allowed and most cities surrendered large parts of their wealth, knowing that she kept her word if they did so.

Silence took over their conversation, knowing that their parley had taken long enough and suspicious would arise that something was amiss if they didn’t come out and returned to their respective armies. As Lexa got up to dress, she saw Clarke silently crying. She knelt down, and hugged the blonde to her chest.

“Am I a bad queen for not wanting to win this battle?” Lexa shook her head. “But _you_ want to win.”

“Yes.”

“If I win, you will die.”

“Yes.”

“If you win, many of my people will die in this battle.”

“Yes.”

“What will you do, if you win? Will you siege my cities?”

“My goal is a decisive victory here, and end this war today.” Clarke knew what a decisive victory meant. It meant a total capture of the army and the destruction of the capability for the nobility to raise a new one. It would be devastating, but not nearly as much as a prolonged war.

Clarke got up, Lexa drank in the sight as it could be the last time. Pitched battles were never certain, because it was difficult to pin an army if it didn’t want to fight. So if one side thought it was unfavorable to fight, it could simply wait for a better chance. Lexa had made it seem like she had no choice but to fight here—being the last defensible position between here and Polis—and Clarke’s general’s thought she had no choice to fight while outnumbered on this field. She was lucky that the queen was not in command, Clarke was merely a figurehead because the nobility did not regard her as able. It infuriated Lexa because Clarke deserved to rule her kingdom, but right now it was a blessing.

Clarke, dressed once again in her wavy blue dress, dried her cheeks with the back of her hands. Lexa was surprised that the blonde turned towards her as well, and stroked her cheek wiping away a tear she hadn’t noticed.

“May we meet again.” Clarke held out her hand.

Lexa clasped hers around the blonde’s wrist strongly. “We _will_ meet again.” She said assuredly. As Clarke turned to leave, she knew she had to warn her for something she’d only recently learned. But if Clarke decided to act before she was ready, then it would result in disaster and probably her death. “Clarke, surround yourself with only men from the following houses: McIntre, Reyes, and your own.”

“Lex? Why do you—?” She shook her head, everything will be explained later.

Right then, the flap on the blonde’s side of the tent opened. She saw the young Bellamy Blake cast a worried glance at them, his eyes narrowed when they focused on her. She’d killed his friend, after all. Despite him knowing what he’d done to Clarke, who was also his friend, his House’s loyalty trumped personal loyalty. Loyalty should be to the King and Country first, not your personal house.

“May the deserving be victorious.” She said as Clarke left in care of the older Blake.

She left the pavilion and jumped on her horse. Anya and Gustus were still waiting. “Took your time, hope she didn’t exhaust you before the battle, that’d be a sneaky strategy.”

Anya laughed and Gustus grinned beneath his beard. Her own cheeks heated up slightly. She was glad that Anya took away the rising nerves. “ _Shof op_. We ride. The battle will start at noon.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, now you know why the war started between Clarke and Lexa. If you think Lexa too brutal in this story--remember that she kicked an ambassador out of a window for speaking up and throwing a spear at Nia (that one was very much deserved though). 
> 
> Next chapter will be the battle. But it seems to be very lenghty right now--so I might split it up in two chapters total (the battle and the outcome+possible epilogue)
> 
> Please let me know what you think (and if I made any errors! I blame all mistakes on a lack of sleep)


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle seals the fate of the two kingdoms

“ _Gona kom Kongeda,_ our lands lay under attack, our villages are besieged, by a foreign invader. They seek to depose me, your _Heda_ , for an unjust cause!” Shouts, started by her generals but soon followed by every soldier. They were angry at the invaders for challenging their monarch. Lexa knew she was loved by her soldiers, it helped that she paid them well too.

“Heda! Heda!”

“This hill is all that lies between them and our beloved capital, Polis. Will we let them approach the gates of my city?”

“ _Nou!”_

“Will you charge with me into battle to defend our homeland and to defend your queen?”

“ _Sha!”_

This would be the fifth and final time she performed this speech before the battle. She made sure to visit each flank to raise morale and get the troops pumped for battle. Discipline kept the ranks together, but to remain standing when a cavalry charge barreled your way while every muscle and nerve screamed to run, required a state of belief that you would win. Most of her knights and soldiers had been in at least one real battle, a thing Arcadia couldn’t claim.

She joined her cavalry unit in the center. Anya was waiting for her. They stood at the front, her entire army could see her sitting on top of her horse, banners flying high with the golden cog on a dark green field.

She stared down the hill, wind gently blowing through her hair, and watched as the enemy formed.

A classic battle line, pike men in the center, archers that could retreat at a moment’s notice in front of them, and flanked by large cavalry contingents. Hers had cavalry in the center, and smaller cavalry units on the flanks. There were few archers, but most of her troops carried a bow as they had trained with more than one weapon. She was outnumbered by half again her size, like she’d planned, because the Arcadian’s would never go for a pitched battle otherwise.

Two more horses joined them. Octavia and Indra, her spy and a trusted general, bowed as they approached.

“Tell me again, which banners belong to the houses that were with King Jacob on his hunting trip?”

Octavia pointed at the colors and heraldry. She hesitated when she got to the white castle on a black field, the banner of the house of Blake.

“Your brother, where will he be?”

“Near Clarke.”

Lexa gripped the reigns of her horse tightly. “Are you absolutely certain he played no part?”

She’d hate to have to cut herself through the enemy lines just to save Clarke’s life.  

“No active part.”

“You understand the consequences if you lie?” Octavia’s eyes flashed dangerously, but she nodded. If Bellamy hurt Clarke, both Octavia and Lincoln would pay for her treachery. “No doubts?”

“I don’t know whether he knew about it.” Lexa nodded, reassured in this.

“Anya, relay to every officer that each of his men will get a golden ducat for every noble they capture. Then make ready for battle.” A golden ducat could provide for a soldier and a family for an entire year. Even Anya’s eyes grew at the potential cost for the crown. She turned to her spy. “Octavia, if you wish, you’re allowed to join Lincoln’s regiment, Indra, you’ll join Roan with the vanguard.”

Both nodded to her and joined their place on the battle lines. Lexa peered down the hillside, searching for the banner of the Queen of Arcadia. She saw it, in the distance, relieved to see it far away from the vanguard.

She rode to the front of her cavalry regiment, nodded to the other officers, and performed a final check. A large sword hung on her hip—this time not the ceremonial weapon of her father but a normal sword—a large war bow was strapped to the side of the saddle, with arrows in a quiver on the other side, accompanied by a spear. They were heavily laden, even for heavy cavalry, lighter cavalry would run them down easily. But their weight increased their momentum when needed.

When she felt ready, she put her helmet on but kept the visor open. Lexa raised the horn that hung over the shoulder by a leather strap to her mouth and blew once.

The battle had begun.

She spurred her horse and together they shot forward. The sound of hooves thundering on the dry soil followed her down the hill. Within moments, they were on full speed, moving as one spearhead with herself at the front, barreling towards the enemy formation. She was leading the charge of five hundred knights, and two more regiments of the same size flanked her on each side.

Lexa looked over to the left and the right of the battle field. She saw the enemy charge forward with their mounted knights on the far flanks, while she ran straight through the middle. To the front of her arrows were launched but they misjudged her unit’s speed and would surely miss. The enemy’s main battle lines were standing behind a shallow river. Normally, this river would reach her knees at the deepest point, not impassable but it would severely slow their charge. However, she’d ordered her men to stem the flow hours before the battle, by now, it would only reach to their ankles.

The archers of the enemy had withdrawn, their arrows having only caught a few of her riders and most bounced off harmlessly, she’d only heard a single rider topple from their horse. Now she could clearly see the front line of Arcadian pike men. Lightly armored, but armed specifically to counter a cavalry charge with their long spears, they were the bread and butter of most armies.

“Bows!” She shouted, and heard her own command echo through the ranks. She drew the massive war bow, which had been strapped to Samos’ side, and pulled the string with all her might. The bow creaked and her muscles strained, while her legs desperately clutched to her horse to remain steady, and aimed directly at the front lines of the enemy. “Fire by rank!”

With a twang, she loosened her grip on the sinew and with a snap the string whipped past her ear. She didn’t look where her arrow struck, instead she immediately veered to the side such that the second line could fire their arrows directly at their targets. More arrows whipped past as three of her cavalry units broke their charge and surprised the defenders with more volleys, who still had their shield on their backs because they needed both hands to use their long spears effectively.

Lexa cast a look over her shoulder at the regiment that was pummeled by a hail of arrows as she increased their distance for a second charge—for real this time. The unit of pike men was wavering, their first line had massive holes in it, but they were veterans in the center, they wouldn’t run just yet. There was some confusion as a few had elected to forego their spears and carry their shields instead.

She brought her horn to her lips and blew two short bursts.

The remaining two cavalry units that had not drawn their bows, shifted formations to a wedge and veered towards the center on a collision course with that fateful unit. Lexa turned her own horse around, straining the muscles in her leg as she did so. Samos was getting tired and more sluggish by the continued exertion, but he listened to her command.

With her back to the action, as she made her loop, she saw both Anya’s and Gustus’ flanks come barreling across the battlefield towards the center as well. That move was sure to surprise any opposing general. She even saw the enemy’s cavalry on the flanks hesitate for a second, they hadn’t reached her army yet because they had to charge uphill, but ultimately they continued their course, hoping to outflank her army. Her own footmen were steadily advancing now as well, following up her cavalry charge.

Screams of battle reached her, the fight had begun. When her loop was completed, she saw that her units had completely routed the unit of pike men and were now in melee. She charged in after them.

Swiping down with her sword as she passed the soldiers  that remained standing, catching one in his shoulder as his mail blocked her cut but the force was enough to throw him on the ground, her unit barreled straight through. Anya and Gustus would close the gap behind them.

Suddenly, they were behind the main line of pike men. In front of her, she saw archers scurry away from the sudden breakthrough. She pointed with her sword towards the unfortunate men, and pressed on with the force of nearly five hundred mounted knights to decimate the bowmen.

The lightly armored archers were no match for her blade, she cut them down one by one. The smell of blood hung in the air, screams of the dying never stopped, but her adrenaline fueled mind barely heard them. She tried to spare those that surrendered—but didn’t stop to avoid trampling them if they remained in her path. Exploiting a breakthrough like this required speed, before enemy ranks closed the caps. As the pike men turned to guard against the horsemen in their backs, she saw Anya and Gustus catch them unawares. Her melee warriors were now also close and the Arcadian’s front lines couldn’t watch both their back and their front.

A red banner, with a white winged boot emblem on it, barreled towards her unit. The House of Shumway, known for their disciplined horsemen all throughout Arcadia, were attempting to cut them off. “Counter their charge!”

She sheathed her sword and drew her reserve lance, and her warriors did the same. Samos protested as she spurred him into gallop once again. He listened, but this would he wouldn’t have many more charges like this in him.

The knights in red and black armor, with the winged boots on their shields and full plate armor, locked in on their charge. They too leveled their lances horizontally, ready for a frontal charge. Lexa raised her shield, feeling the muscles in her arm tremble at the effort. She breathed heavily from exhaustion. She saw the leader, one with a banner for the others to follow, and he saw her. They knew exactly who the other was.

_You’ll get what you deserve._

The tip of her spear wavered as she held it up against the force of gravity. She flexed her muscles with all her might.

It was over in a second.

She felt the impact of her spear against the metal plate reverb through her arm. At the same time, she felt something hard strike her shoulder, missing her shield, and the tip scraped along her armor. The wooden shaft of Lord Shumway’s lance snapped with in a hail of splinters. A scream escaped her lips as she toppled from her horse. All around her men and horsed crashed into one another.

Dazed, she spat out a mouthful of mud and got back on her feet, wondering for a brief second where her helmet had gone. Her head was pounding and the world spun around her. Another horse fell over next to her, the poor animal screaming in pain as it threw up another disorienting cloud of dust. Its rider, one of hers, stayed on the ground as his steed got up and sprinted away, he was impaled by a spear through the chest, and his plate armor had not protected him.

Her body reacted as she heard the thundering of hooves. She rolled on the ground just as the hooves were about to trample her to death. She slashed out with her sword, cutting the tendons of the animal, and it crashed with its rider to the ground. She rolled out of the way as the beast almost crushed her.

She landed back on all fours, with her helmet gone, her hair draped down the sides of her head, braids coming undone. Sweat dripped down her forehead to her nose, the droplets sticking to her skin. She gritted her teeth as she pushed on both arms to get back on her feet, her bruised shoulder protesting at the effort.

She swayed on her feet as she looked around the battlefield. Knights were fighting duels all around her.

It was a mess.

She found the knight she’d unhorsed getting back on his feet as well. His back was still turned towards her. She snapped forward, grabbing her sword by the blade with her gloved hands, and slammed the cross-guard into his shins. His legs gave away and he crashed back into the ground with a grunt. She drew a smaller knife and jumped on his fallen body. Without hesitation, she slipped the blade through the slits in his visor. He stilled underneath her, and when she drew the blade back it was slick with blood.

Hearing armor creak behind her, she rolled of the body of the slain knight and a blade slashed overhead. She ditched her knife and gripped her sword with both hands.

Lord Shumway had found her again.

His left arm hung limp by his side, her lance had snapped during the charge like his had but it had buried itself into the man’s shoulder exactly where she’d aimed it, punching through the metal armor.

She circled the man almost twice her size, knowing that she needed to get back on her horse. A series of horn blasts reached her over the guttural sounds of the carnage, one of her flanks was retreating. They’d seen her go down, morale was finicky and she knew how much they valued her.

“Yield, Lord Shumway, and you won’t die today.” She had the upper hand, he knew it, but he would also know that the longer she stayed on the ground the worse her soldier’s morale became.

He charged her. They were both sluggish from exhaustion and, in his case, blood loss. His sword bounced of hers as she blocked an overhead slash. Sparks flew as she struck forward, he tried to parry but was too slow and sparks flew of their swords as she slid past his defense, and hit his armor square in the chest. She jumped back as he retaliated by striking for her exposed head.

Catching her breath for a second, she saw him clutch his chest where she’d struck the armor. Her mind cleared, finally remembering her mace, she used her off hand to get the mace from her belt, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper as her bruised shoulder screamed in pain at the weight in her hands. The iron club with an iron ball at its tip was perfect for denting plate armor and breaking bones underneath. With her sword in her right hand, and mace in the left, she charged.

Shumway stabbed forward, she ducked under the blow and deflected it further up with her sword. She slammed her mace into his forward leg. A large dent appeared and he heard a scream muffled by the helm her opponent was wearing. He toppled down to a knee, his sword bounced of her armor, denting it slightly and she ignored the pain flashing up in her side, and wrapped her arm around the one carrying the weapon.

She smashed her mace down on the extended limb and, despite the plate armor, the bone snapped. The weapon dropped limply from Shumway's hands.

“I yield.” He said with a pained voice. Of course he did. He had no choice.

Another horse, carrying another knight in red, burst into their small arena. He saw her and his commander, and decided to charge her. _Perfect._

In his haste, and the perceived advantage of still being horsed, he forgot to raise his shield. She threw the mace at his head, and smirked as it connected, denting the visor and breaking his nose. He toppled from his animal like a sack of flour. The horse barreled through and she caught his reigns and swung herself in the saddle. The animal didn’t seem to care who rode it and she easily steadied the horse. Lexa undid her own red sash and bound it to her sword.

The moment she raised the sword in the air, waving it around like a banner, its effect spread like a wave through her fatigued troops. She followed the ripple as yells for glory burst from the ranks. Soon her guard rallied around her and blasted their horns. Suddenly three more riders approached her and formed up. The knights from the House of Shumway were defeated. They routed or surrendered.

Anya, her brow furrowed as she looked both worried and angry, also burst through with her remaining knights. “Worried?”

“You’re mad.” Her general countered. A smile pulled Lexa’s lips upwards when she saw the unmounted horse behind Anya. She reached out and let Samos nuzzle her hand, he wouldn’t continue this battle because he was too tired to continue. Her tired limbs wished they could join him.

From her vantage point on top of her horse, she finally could see how the battle had progressed. Her breach trough the center had led to the destruction of several enemy regiments before their ability to flank had been halted by reinforcements. Her own flanks had suffered to Arcadia’s knights, but seemed to be holding on. The enemy seemed to be on the verge of a massive rout, one more key banner falling should do it. All in all, she was more than pleased.

“Anya, give me your freshest troops. We’re finishing this battle.” The remained of the two regiments that still had a fight left in them combined to a new force. Horses were shared and traded, until this regiment was as fresh as could be after having fought for a constant hour.

“What are you planning?” She gave a single nod towards the blue banner with the large golden griffin. Anya scoffed. “Show off.”

She spurred her new horse in his flanks. He obeyed and they raced towards their new target. The unfortunate footmen that stood between them and the queen of Arcadia’s royal guard stood their ground for their queen, but against the onslaught of fresh cavalry, fearless under her command, they stood little chance.

As the horses barreled into them, they dropped their shields and weapons and fled. The road ahead was clear, so they charged with all of them directly towards Clarke. She saw the guard form up a defensive perimeter, preparing to defend against another one of her famed charges. The men, all wearing shining plate armor, were all showing the blue and golden colors of Clarke’s house, except for one with the black banner of the house of Blake, which must be Bellamy.

Her men didn’t charge, she ordered them to slow down and surround the queen’s guard.

“Bows!” They all brought up their bows and nocked arrows, but didn’t draw them back yet. She reared her horse and stared the Arcadian honor guard down. She knew they would stand and fight to the end to defend their queen, if need be. That would be a waste.

The Queen’s banner was pulled down and the Arcadian knights parted for a woman on a horse. The newly crowned queen of Arcadia worse a dress which was fitted with armor plates over the chest, and legs. The dress was white and blue, with golden threads embroidered in intricate patterns along the linings. Lexa had her doubts about the practicality of the outfit in battle, but she had to admit Clarke looked both fierce and feminine, unlike herself in her full plate armor. Lexa swallowed when she saw the bloodshot eyes, Clarke had not taken the battle well. This was her first time in one, as far as Lexa knew, and the first one Arcadia had been in since Clarke was old enough to remember.

“I yield.” Clarke said, voice strong despite her cold, hard and most of all sad, eyes. Lexa tried to give her a comforting smile, she normally thrived in a battle, feeding off the adrenaline, but this battle felt more like fighting kin than fighting the enemy. She dropped her bow and sheathed all her weapons, most of the Arcadian knights followed through.

“I hereby declare the Queen of Arcadia my captive and under—”  

“For Arcadia!” A knight in black came charging through the ranks, straight towards Clarke. _Bellamy_ , why? He was spurred on by more knights. Clarke turned around, aghast, and hastily drew her own sword. Lexa wasted no moment and spurred her horse to put herself between Clarke and her assailant.

She was too late to draw her own sword, Clarke’s safety being more paramount, and without her helmet and shield, she had to protect her face with her arms. She heard her armor break and buckle under the stress as she blocked the blow. A second blow came too quickly and the third managed to strike through her defenses. The tip of the blade passed by her arm and by reflex she snapped her head back. That probably saved her life, as the tip of Bellamy’s sword now barely cut through her cheek. Dark blood dripped down the side of her face. She heard Clarke scream as she interjected herself into the battle and struck Bellamy in the chest, the blow was deflected from his armor. Dazed from the pain in her arms and cheek, she watched as Clarke continued to pummel the man and finally managed to disarm the knight.

Chaos erupted.

All her knights loosened their bows arrows pummeled the knights that hadn’t followed Bellamy’s charge. They, feeling threatened and surrounded, decided to raise their weapons. With her left hand, the one that hadn’t suffered under Bellamy’s assault, she fumbled to draw her sword. She was ambidextrous, but with the sword hanging of her left side, it as a difficult reach as her left shoulder was still hurt from her duel with Shumway.

Anya rallied towards her and she stood between the knights in blue and her queen as they charged.

Lexa turned and saw as Bellamy struck Clarke with the back of his sword. The blonde was nearly knocked of her horse, but managed to hold on and strike at Bellamy’s steed. Panicked from the sudden would, the animal threw his rider off. Bellamy crashed to the floor and Clarke was on him within a second. Lexa watched with morbid fascination as the blonde drew a knife from her belt, ready to finish what she started.

She jumped down the horse and landed next to Clarke right when she pulled back to strike the downed man. Lexa caught Clarke’s hand. Surprised blue eyes turned to her. She shook her head at the blonde.

“Why, Bellamy?” she pointed her own sword at him. “Why did you attack your own queen?”

But he hadn’t. _Not really_. It had just seemed like it to her and she’d reacted irrationally. It had been a gamble on his part, trying to strike her down by pretending to attack her only blind spot.

Lexa recalled an earlier missive from one of her spies, Echo. She’d said that Bellamy had cancelled an outing, and acted distant recently. Octavia had also said her brother was spending more time with Clarke. Neither had seen him as part of the hunting trip, so that left a few options. One was the most obvious. He’d wanted to court Clarke, and he’d be there for her when her father died as a shoulder to cry on.

“I see.” She leveled her sword against him. “I suppose your hunting skills are lacking, Bellamy?”

His resigned look told her all she needed to know.

Clarke hadn’t caught on yet, but she was halfway there as seen by her inquisitive look and narrowing eyes. Anya had subdued the knights that charged into the chaos with her own men and women. The knights, seeing that their queen was not in danger, seemed to remember their liege’s surrender.

Seeing their queen being captured by Kongedan soldiers was the last straw that broke the back of the army. Arcadian troops fled in droves, being ran down by her light horsemen that sought out specific high ranking nobles to collect the bounty Lexa had promised.

The battle was now finally over. It was the decisive victory she wanted.

However one look at the blonde queen, who surveyed the carnage of the men that hadn’t fled—the vast majority of them wearing Arcadian colors—cast a dark shadow over her sense of victory. Many bodies lay feathered with arrows. And the screams of the dying now finally were louder than the sounds of battle.

Her soldiers started their victory celebrations, still high on adrenaline while she now could see her healers rush to the field. For the first time she’d ordered them to heal both her and her enemy’s wounded.

Clarke squared her shoulders as she watched. “Go.” She said, knowing that Clarke wanted to help the medics. “Find Nyko, I’ll collect you for the peace talks.”

Clarke didn’t look at her, perhaps because she couldn’t right this second after she’d killed so many of her countrymen, but as she passed her the blonde briefly reached out with and touched her hand. Lexa hungrily grabbed them and held on for as long as she could, until Clarke’s fingers slipped from her grasp. She watched as the blonde walked away from her, a slight limp in her step, going to work on the healing the wounded and ending the suffering of the dying.

 

 

**Two days later**

 

It would be two full days before she could see Clarke again. Lexa stalled as long as possible for the blonde to cope with the results of the battle, during which she’d heard that the captured queen of Arcadia hadn’t sat still. Some rumors had spread that Lexa has forced her to heal the wounded, there were few warriors that put two and two together and recognized her from the campaign in the desert. Though most found the truth much more inconceivable.

Right now, Lexa was waiting with her advisors for the arrival of the captured high nobility and the queen of Arcadia and queen mother Abigail Griffin. The woman, who had lost her husband and now feared for her daughter, deserved respect in Lexa’s eyes. She had raised a wonderful daughter, after all.

She was slouched lazily in a wooden throne, a replica of her antler throne back in Polis, and played with a dagger. Titus milled about her, trying to gain insight in her demands for peace. She’d always been up front with her advisors but while her initial plans had formed quickly after war had been declared, her decisive victory changed things once more. Theoretically, she could demand anything. And her advisors pushed for conquest of border provinces, some of the mountain ranges container valuable iron and copper mines.

“My Queen, you haven’t said a word about your plans. How are we to advice you if you don’t tell us?” Titus angrily rubbed his head, making his bald head even more reflective and she could see the torches reflected in it.

“Quite simply, you don’t. If I required your advice, I would’ve told you my plans.” In fact, she wanted to gauge responses of her advisors and own nobility when she listed her demands. She’d ordered Anya and a few of her most trusted spies to keep a watchful eye. If Titus was taken aback, he didn’t show it. Instead, he shuffled closer and spoke to her softly but forcefully.

“Don’t let a pretty face cloud your judgement, this needless bloodbath needs to have some worth or you risk rebellion.” While ordinarily he would have a point, Lexa disagreed. This war was a separate affair to the noble she’d killed.

A trumpet sounded the arrival of the captives. They were treated well, as befitting of their status, and showed no signs of captivity nor battle except for the occasional wound. Her warriors had captured more than she’d expected. Lexa only had eyes for Clarke, she searched her face for any sign of forgiveness. Her heart beat loudly and rapidly in her chest and she nervously wrung her hands. When she saw Clarke mouth the words ‘I’m sorry, I love you’, she let her shoulders sag. She mouthed them back. Clarke sat down in front of her, with her back facing the entrance and the rest of her court. Lexa would face them when she demanded concessions from the loser. This was new to her too, normally she didn’t care for how she was perceived and took what she wanted.

She opened the talks. “Welcome, Queen Clarke, Queen-mother Abigail, and the court of Arcadia. We’re here to discuss an end to hostilities and a hope to put the recent past behind us. I have but two demands.”

Clarke nodded solemnly, Lexa tore her gaze away from those blue eyes and surveyed the room. She saw Lord Blake and Lord Collins stare at her with open hostility, but the same sentiment was seen on the faces of many of the Arcadian nobility. She recognized Lady Raven as well, for she had been part of Clarke’s entourage back in the Queen’s camp. Lexa was surprised when she found that Raven did not look half as murderous as she had expected.

“We have seen how fickle the alliance is between our two nations, but I would like to solidify our relationship to something more permanent. Since you are currently unmarried, I’d propose a political marriage to keep the peace between our nations.”

For a brief moment, she saw anger flash into Clarke’s eyes, then understanding took its place and the blonde nodded. The rest of the court, both the nobles from Arcadia—especially the queen’s mother—and her own exploded.

“Aden is too young! Arcadia needs an heir.”

“Clarke is too old, when Aden comes of age she won’t be able to bare children.”

Even Abby, fiercely protective of her daughter, had stood up and, while chastising Lexa’s guards for trying to push her back down, shouted angrily at her. “How dare you force my daughter—“

“Silence!” Her voice carried over the shouting nobles. “I’m afraid all of you misunderstand me. Clarke will not marry my brother.” She leaned back and propped her arm under her shin as she put her elbow on the armrest. “I intend Clarke to marry me.”

A few seconds of stunned silence rested over everyone in the room. Abby, mouth gaping, sagged back in her chair, and Lexa could see the puzzle pieces fall into place. The eldest Griffin then nodded towards her. If only the rest of the nobility, now only on Arcadia’s side, had had the same reaction. More shouts, more fiercely about the need for an heir because now it was even more of an impossibility, but soon voices took over that they would not view Lexa as the legitimate queen of Arcadia.

Lexa got up from her throne and knelt down on one knee in front of Clarke. “Queen Clarke Griffin the First, will you take me as your consort to support you with your rule in Arcadia? I promise I will give everything I can to you and your kingdom, in return all I ask is that you would do the same for me and mine.”

At once, she dispelled all complaints about imposing her law in Arcadia. Lexa had never knelt to anyone since she became queen. Bowing, yes, but kneeling down on the floor was something she didn’t do. All eyes were on Clarke. Clarke could say no, because Kongeda law said no one, not even a queen, could force marriage. Which is why Lexa was able to remain unmarried for so long. It did help she had a little brother in case she met her end on the battlefield.

She saw a tear drop down from Clarke’s eyes and for a second she worried if she’d made a mistake. If Clarke didn’t want this, and felt like she couldn’t say no because of the weak position of women in her kingdom and culture, it would be wrong for Lexa to ask this of her. She opened her mouth to retract her offer when Clarke flashed a brilliant but tearful smile for just a brief moment before composing herself. “I accept.” She held out her hand, which Lexa took and Clarke pulled her upright.

When Clarke started to kneel as well, Lexa stopped her and whispered to her. “You don’t need to kneel to your equal, Clarke.” She raised her voice and turned to the room. “Let Clarke sit beside me, for we are no longer enemies but bound together as one. There is a finicky problem of an heir, but that _minor_ detail will be figured out later.”

A chair was procured by Titus, who seemed to have recovered from her ploy, and quickly put next to Lexa’s throne. Instead of sitting down on her throne and giving the less decorative chair to Clarke, she gave the throne to the Queen. She was laying it on thick, especially when these gestures were not required of her, but they showed that she had no problem submitting to Clarke in the public view. Prestige—a currency more valuable to a monarch than gold—was difficult to gain and easily lost. Playing a part in front of the highest nobility of two courts, would damage her reputation if it was found untrue.

“Queen Lexa,” Clarke spoke to her, “you asked for two concession and we’ve only discussed one. What is your final demand?”

“I must ask your forgiveness beforehand, for this will hurt but that is not my intention.” Clarke looked at with a confused gaze. She furrowed her brows and tilted her head. “Lady Octavia Blake and Echo D’Azgeda, please share with the court what you’ve shared with me.”

A murmur went through the captured nobles of Clarke’s army, most looked surprised, but a few select families suddenly looked extremely worried. She saw Bellamy’s face contort when Echo stepped forward and an even more betrayed look appeared when Octavia knelt briefly before Lexa.

The youngest Blake sibling procured documents from a bag, most were half-burnt, but their authenticity was unquestioned by the remains of collected seals and other marks very difficult to fabricate. She read out loud—surprising even her brother, because when she had recruited Octavia, the woman had not known how to read. “… king refuses to let one of our sons court the princess… princess has too much of a spirit… grief is a powerful emotion… signed, Lord Blake.”

“This proves nothing!”

Octavia showed the document to Clarke and Titus, both of whose faces contorted. Clarke recoiled as if the mere existence of the letter burned her. Lexa interweaved her fingers with the blonde’s, now uncaring whether the whole court saw or not. “Read Lord Collins’ response.”

 “… son was stupid. Jacob will never agree now and may call for his head… summoned his ally from the east… we cannot let him raise his banners.” Not all of the message had been saved from the fire, but the intention was clear. Luckily, there was more.

“Echo, if you please.”

A blonde haired, fierce but beautiful, woman stepped forward. Lexa saw the sorrowful glance she spared Bellamy, Lexa had known there could have been something brewing between the two of them, if Echo hadn’t been her spy. “When visiting Lord Blake’s estate with his son Bellamy, I overheard Lord Blake, Lord Collins, Lady Green and Lord Shumway discuss the correspondence between the two previous lords. They talked about their support for Lord Collins. Then they sent the following letter to three persons, I intercepted one directed at Lord Reyes.” She also procured a document, unburnt but with the seal still intact. Echo had not even opened it yet. There was a very slim chance this was nothing, but Lexa believed Echo about what she’d overheard.

“Dear Lord Reyes—some crap about how nice his daughter is, which is true but useless—“

“Echo…” She warned.

“Sorry, my queen.” The blonde continued again. “—the yearly hunt will commence next week. The king is strong and has strong allies, but Clarke needs a man to rule. Finn is no longer a candidate, but Lord Blake’s son is very capable and aligned with our interests. In an ideal world, we’d have more time to prepare a courtship, but Finn has made a minor transgression towards the king’s daughter and we need to act now. The hunt will be an excellent opportunity to change our king’s mind, or change who’s king. Wearing red tomorrow will show your alignment with our cause. Signed, Lord Collins, Lord Shumway and Lady Green.”

Echo stepped up the dais and gave the letter first to her, and she handed it off to Clarke. The blonde’s hands were shaking so much, the document slipped from them and fluttered away from them. Titus snatched it, quickly read it, and nodded once. Her guards now had to physically restraint Abby when she made a move to steal one of their swords. Clarke had tears now streaming down her cheeks, but otherwise looked dead ahead with emotionless blue eyes.

“King Jacob was a great friend of mine.” Lexa started. “Based on the evidence presented today, and more I have stored up, I demand justice for the following perpetrators: Lord Blake, Lord Shumway, Lord and Lady Collins, Lord Jaha,” Clarke whipped her head towards her at that name, “Lady Green, and lord and lady Sidney.”

A wave rippled through the room, especially through the Arcadian nobles, who were now eyeing each other with distrust and disbelief. The nobles she hadn’t called out reached for their weapons, which they no longer had, to take retribution for their king. It was clear that a majority of Clarke’s court had loved the late king. She was glad, because the next action would secure Clarke’s hold over the throne.

“For the crime of regicide, I sentence those involved to death.” She looked at Clarke, who nodded thankfully. Lexa knew the blonde would have had trouble calling for the execution of her fellow countrymen, people who she’s looked up to while growing up, most claiming to be friends of the house of Griffin.

The blonde now took over. “I strip all titles from the families, they will no longer be nobles but share the ranks with the common people. Hopefully you’ve treated them well during your rule.”

A scuffle erupted on the floor, a few Arcadian nobles rose up and one overpowered her guards and rushed into the middle of the court. “You cannot do this!” she recognized the man as Charles Blake, his muscular frame towered over a few of her soldiers. She was not surprised that he managed to break free.

“Or you’ll do what?” Lexa threatened. “Raise your banners? If I recall correctly, they all lay defeated by my army. None of you have men to call for war.”

In _gon wa,_ the board game of war all nobles learned strategy from, this move was called _toli wimplei,_ a total victory. Lexa saw that Charles knew this as well, there was very little he could do except for one thing.

“I demand a trial by combat.”

“Because the charge is on all of you, you will fight for them all. Do the other traitors agree?” They nodded. Lexa stood up from her throne. She asked Clarke’s permission, which she gave reluctantly. “I promise I’ll win.” And pressed her lips for a moment to Clarke’s, their first kiss truly in public. She stepped down the dais in confident strides.

“Wait—now?” Blake was taken aback, neither of them wore armor. He worse a dirty tunic, unwashed since the battle two days ago, but he’d been given plenty of rest in her cells. The food had been decent as well, it’s important to take good care of your prisoners lest you one day become one yourself.

Lexa nodded to one of her guards. The burly man stepped towards a rack of weapons which had been brought specifically for this purpose. He grunted towards Charles, who called for the longsword, a two-handed sword with more reach than an arming sword but wasn’t as heavy as a great sword. She asked for the same weapon.

The crowd parted to give them space. She watched her opponent like a hawk while they got ready. She let him try out his sword, to test whether it was a good weapon and how it was balanced, and seemed satisfied with the result. Lexa half expected him to charge her in surprise, he had very little to lose, but he seemed a man of honor—some at least.

Titus chose to preside over the duel. His light-brown robes accented by a red belt flowed as he walked to the center of the make-shift arena. Her guards formed a closed circle between the spectators and the three of them. “Lord Charles of House Blake defends the accusations leveled by Queen Lexa in a trial of combat. Should he win, the accusations are void, lose, and they are to be truthful.”

It was a silly practice, a trial by combat. It proved nothing, and was often only invoked when either very confident in one’s capabilities or very desperate. She should have abolished it a long time ago—perhaps she would after today—but at the same time she would enjoy skewering the man on her sword.

She removed the red sash she’d been wearing—it would only get in the way—and shrugged off a few more layers of clothing. They were not going to protect her against a blow from a sword anyway. With both hands on the leather bound handle, her right just below the cross guard and her left near the pommel, she held it out diagonally facing her opponent. He did the same.

 “You may start.” Titus said.

Lexa didn’t wait. She stepped forward with her right foot and jabbed the tip of her sword towards Charles’ stomach. He deflected the blow expertly and retaliated. She tested the way he pushed against her as their weapons clashed.

When his blade slid all the way down hers and came to rest on her cross guard for just a moment, and Lord Blake was fully extended, she knocked his blade aside.

That moment was all she needed.

She stepped forward and thrust her weapon in his exposed middle. It ripped through flesh and bounced slightly off a rib but Lexa pushed on until her cross guard was firmly planted against his stomach and her face was next to his. “You’re deemed guilty.”

Warm blood seeped onto her hands, she looked over Lord Blake’s shoulder and saw the defeated looks on the faces of the accused men and women. With a deliberate stroke she withdrew her sword from the slain Lord’s body, he collapsed with a final splutter of agony. He gurgled in pain as he bled out slowly on the floor, soaking the carpet in the red fluid of life. She decided to be generous and end his suffering, and planted the sword in his skull with a sickening crunch.

Finally, the brutality of her own actions sat in and she was disgusted by them, by herself, of what she’d done. She’d just been so angry. A thought shared by many, even Abby had recoiled in disgust at the vicious way she’d killed a fellow a noble, despite that this man took part in the complot that killed her husband. She glanced down her own bloodstained outfit, the dark green colors of her coat seemed black where they’d been stained with blood. She’d lost control—something she was prone to do in combat—and was almost scared to turn towards her new wife. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared, but now it was different.

Lexa had to force her eyes up.

To her surprise, Clarke only had a look of satisfaction on her face, not disgust. Relieved, she walked back to her throne and sat down. “The trial is concluded. You are all guilty. Executions are at dawn.”

 

**Two years later – Epilogue**

Rain clattered against the dense ceiling of Forest canopy. Despite the thick layer of leaves, rain drops still found their way to the ground. She was drenched to the bone, her dress soaking in the water like a sponge. She really should’ve listened to her advisors and taken the carriage, she thought as her teeth clattered when a breeze washed over her.

She really hated the autumn rains of Kongeda.

Her two escorts felt the same, looking at their dripping hair and sour faces. An apology hung on her lips, but she kept it safely inside. It was unbecoming for a queen to apologize over something small like this.

“We’re almost there, my Queen.” A gruff voice said. Its owner was a bulky man with an impressive beard with braided hair and he had even a few braids in his beard as well.

“I know, Ryder. Almost home.” Almost out of this godforsaken weather. The three of them followed a bend in the road around a tree the size of a small hovel, sometimes it was easier to go around nature than through it, this meandering road through the forest was proof of that.

Behind the tree, the forest suddenly stopped and she overlooked large fields of grazing animals and resting farmlands as the farmers prepared for the next feeding season. Even the animals were huddled together under the few trees that provided cover against nature’s onslaught.

Down the steady incline, it couldn’t be called a hill, the road followed straight towards the largest city in their realm. Three concentric walls, she could barely look over the first one, divided the city in three rings. A river flowed through the city, providing trade and fresh water to its inhabitants. The river was a recent addition, because it was not natural. Its existence was surely one of the world’s wonders now. Overseeing its construction had been a demanding task, especially when she needed to govern two kingdoms.

The lost impressive landmark of the city still was the Tower. The walls were tall, but the tower seemed to reach the sky. On top of the tower burned the eternal flame, defying nature as she tried to snuff it out. She spurred her horse down the ridge, away from the forest and towards the gates.

Despite the rain, people still worked in the fields or were on their way to the city to trade. She passed carts laden with fur, produce, wine barrels or, she smelled, fish. They were pulled by oxen or horses, their masters looked sympathetic as they noticed her dripping hair, one even offered shelter next to his smelly fish. Despite her rather recognizable look, they didn’t seem to know who she was.

Luckily.

It was crowded near the gates, some people were huddled underneath the massive stone archways waiting for the rain to stop, and some others were being inspected by the guards for illegal wares. Known citizens could pass freely. All guards wore the red uniform, its color representing the burning flame. As she approached, her face still hidden underneath the scarf she used as cover against the rain, she was spotted by a guard.

“Halt!” A young man, with ruffled brown hair and barely old enough to grow a beard, desperately tried to put authority in his voice. She humored him and stopped. “Who goes there—”

His eyes grew, they were a deep brown, common amongst these areas, and he stumbled. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry I didn’t, you look…”

She knew she had looked better, but the young lad was desperately trying not to insult her. She gave him her best haughty glare, wondering how imposing it could be as she felt a drop of rain trail down her nose, across her lips and finally down her chin where it fell onto her horses neck. Her horse twitched, spraying more rain drops from his wet manes. _Thanks a lot._

Defeated, she sighed. “Just tell me if she’s in the tower or somewhere else.”

“Her Majesty is in the training grounds with the Crown Prince.” Of course they are. Why she chose to marry someone who loved the rain was a mystery. Well, she’s already drenched and cold and really, really had missed her wife.

She spurred her mount and he left the dry confines of the gate with a huff. Polis seemed deserted under the depressive weather. A few children played in the puddles that formed between the uneven cobblestones. When she passed the Wayward Inn she heard roused singing and smelled freshly cooked meat, the innkeeper must make a small fortune on an evening or day—she didn’t know the time, the dark clouds obscured the sun from view—like this.

The second and third gates were passed without a hitch, until she reached the large training complex for the elite troops, like the personal guard. She heard the sounds of wood striking wood before she saw them. She got off her horse and walked the last leg. There, inside a muddy arena surrounded by a wooden fence, she saw her. The queen’s brown hair was tied in a long single blade on the back of her neck, she was clad in simple brown leather pants and tunic which clung tightly to her body. A single wooden longsword was held in two hands which were raised slightly above her head and the tip hung down towards her opponent.

The young crown prince held his ground against the onslaught delivered on him by his bigger sister. The boy with the blonde ruffled hair—some people claimed he could’ve been her son—was breathing heavily as he blocked Lexa’s attack. Clarke couldn’t hear what Lexa told the boy, but he nodded and changed his stance. That’s when he saw her and briefly looked her up and down, and then bit his lip to hide a smile.

Yes, she knew by now that she looked like she’d taken a swim in the moat.

She leaned on the wooden fence around the arena and watched as Lexa continued with her lesson. The brunette’s back was still turned to her, Clarke didn’t mind because Lexa had a wonderful behind, so she could watch unabashedly as the Queen taught her skill to the crown prince, who was seven years younger than her and had just come of age.

When Aden managed to push Lexa back, and she had to dodge and twist, finally bringing Clarke in her line of sight, she saw her eyes widen and a smile turn up on her face. With a single swipe, she disarmed her brother, showing how much she’d been holding back, and dropped her own training sword, and sprinted straight towards her.

“Oh, no.” She took a step back from the fence and held up her arms, that didn’t deter Lexa. She jumped on the fence and then pushed off the top bar. Clarke saw joy in those green eyes as the queen reached the highest point in her arc and came down in a collision course with her. A grunt left her body as Lexa slammed into her. The world spun as she was toppled over and fell in the mud with Lexa pinning her down.

“You’re early!” Her hands were raised above her head and she lay defenseless as Lexa straddled her. Lexa kissed her soundly. There was one thing the two kingdoms had learned very quickly: they didn’t mind public displays of affection, and Lexa indulged frequently, especially after they’d been apart. It was a new side of Lexa, total opposite of the Lexa the Conqueror. It was quite often that Clarke had to pull the breaks, for she was more modest and always losing the game Lexa was playing where she looked how far she could go before Clarke pulled her in a private room. She wondered if she didn’t stop the brunette, that Lexa would take her right in the middle of the training grounds. She moaned at the thought when Lexa’s knee pressed into her core.

“Aden.” She said.

“That’s not the name I was hoping you’d say.” Lexa laughed and looked at the mortified boy who had averted his gaze. Even in the dark she could see the blush on his face. “I was excited, sorry.”

“Welcome back, Clarke.” Aden walked over to them, a smile on his blushing face too. Lexa released her grip on her hands and got back on her feet. The brunette helped her back on her feet.

“You should call me Mom, now.” His eyes grew. “It’s official. I succeeded.”

“I never doubted you.” Lexa said and intertwined their fingers. Aden was now officially her adopted son. It was unconventional, but she needed an heir and she wasn’t going to fuck some man to get pregnant. She wanted kids, yes, and nobility demanded a bloodline heir, but this was the closest they were going to get.

“It helped that most of my fiercest opposition is six feet underground.” Lexa shrugged. In the aftermath of her father’s murder and Clarke’s defeat, Arcadia had lost a quarter of her most disloyal nobles. Lexa had to put down a small rebellion, and since then she faced barely any opposition if her demands were reasonable. “So, Aden, you’re set to inherit two kingdoms.”

The boy blanched, already buckling under the stress as Lexa kept putting more responsibilities on his shoulders. “But not for many, many years. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you skipped me entirely.”

“A good king,” Lexa started but she finished her sentence.

“—doesn’t want the burden of the crown, but bears it for his people.” It was the perfect solution, and it had been Lexa’s end game. Lexa was too violent, too expansionistic, for Arcadia’s citizens. Aden had no such reputation. In fact, everyone doted on him. It helped that the boy was smart, compassionate, and strong, the three pillars of a good ruler. “Charlotte sends her regards, by the way.”

“Ah—she, uh, asked about me?” Clarke nodded. “What did she say?”

“That I should send you her regards.” Aden groaned and Lexa chuckled at his expense. It was too early to tell, and she wouldn’t force the issue, but if the boy—on paper, her son—would marry an Arcadian noble like Charlotte, it would be the perfect way to unify the two kingdoms. But she would never dream of forcing the marriage.

The boy crossed his arms and furrowed his brow, then he looked her over and finally got his retort ready. “Well, if you looked like that in your court, it’s not a miracle that she didn’t say more to you.”

“Yes, Clarke, you look well camouflaged. As if you became one with the rain.” Lexa joked. Clarke’s indignation evaporated when the queen continued. “You should take a bath. I need to clean every last inch of you. With my hands, fingers, and mouth.”

Aden suddenly regretted having spoken at all and he bolted with is fingers plugged in his ears and pointedly looking anywhere but at them. Clarke, extremely aroused again, forcefully grabbed Lexa by her collar and dragged her towards the tower. “You’d better make good on that promise.”

“Oh, I will.”

 

 

**Fifty-some years later - Final Epilogue**

Aden watched as the casket was lowered into the ground. Lexa ‘the Conqueror’ kom Trikru, first of her name, had died two months after her wife had died. She would be the first of Trikru royalty that would be buried instead of cremated. He didn’t know whether she believed in their religion, that her spirit needed to be free, but Clarke had believed in her own and wanted to be buried. Lexa had decided that, even if her religion was true and her spirit couldn’t be reincarnated if she wasn’t cremated, she didn’t want to if Clarke’s spirit was trapped. So she would share a grave with her wife.

He grasped the hand of his wife, not his youthful love Charlotte who he’d spent pining after until he missed his chance, but Julia. Her once red hair had turned grey, as had his blonde hair. The funeral was a solemn affair, but he couldn’t be sad when Lexa had almost seemed glad yesterday evening, as if she’d known that she wouldn’t wake up.

The progression lead back into the tower, his two children, a boy and a girl—man and a woman, they’d grown up so fast—and _their_ three young children followed them. He looked at the two empty thrones in the court, they were his now. He’d almost expected never to sit on them. But now he inherited two kingdoms, but plans were already set in motion to unite the two courts into one. The kingdom of Arcadia would seize to exist and now only the empire of Kongeda would remain.

He sat down in the throne, weary as he felt the weight of the responsibility.

“Grand-da, is it true that Lexa and Clarke once fought a war _against_ each other? And Lexa the Conqueror then conquered the entirety of the kingdom of Arcadia and forced Clarke to be her wife? But Clarke fell in love with her anyway?”

He patted his lap, and his oldest grandchild, a daughter of three years old with bright green eyes and blonde hair, who would take the throne after his son, climbed in it.

“That’s not exactly how it happened, Cassandra. Let me tell you the story of how Lexa ‘the Exile’ and Clarke ‘the Princess’ became Lexa ‘the Conqueror’ and Clarke ‘the Great’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know whether you liked it or not and if you'd want me to write more for this ship or this fic (or a similar setting).

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


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